


The Arendellian Chronicles

by quodhonestumest



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:28:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 44,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28317495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quodhonestumest/pseuds/quodhonestumest
Summary: We know the story of the Royal Family of Arendelle from the movies.But what if the story was told with a little bit of a...twist?
Relationships: Agnarr/Iduna (Disney), Anna (Disney) & Original Character(s), Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney), Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. A Little Introduction

Why hello there! My name is Rosie and I'm the author of The Arendellian Chronicles :) b

Before we dive in I would just like say a few things!

  * While Once Upon a Time plays a big part in this story, the majority of the story will be based in Arendelle, or from the perspective of those who are in the Arendellian royal family. 
  * I put the tag Alternate Universe because a lot of the big plot points in the Frozen Movies and OUAT respectively either don't happen or they do but I've put my own twist on them. 
  * I know that in OUAT, Elsa and Anna's mother was called Gerda. However, she is called Iduna in this story. Helga and Ingrid are still her sisters though. 
  * **THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT: WITHIN THIS STORY THERE WILL BE DESECRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE, NEAR RAPE, MENTAL ILLNESS, AND ABUSE. IF ANY OF THIS IS TRIGGERING FOR YOU I WOULDN'T READ THIS STORY IF YOU STILL WISH TO, I WILL PUT ❌❌❌ BEFORE THE CHAPTER BEGINS TO WARN YOU, WITH A TRIGGER WARNING OF COURSE.**
  * This story is also available on Fanfiction.net 
  * If you wish to translate this book please ask me in advance! I would love to share my story with others, but it would be really appreciated if you ask permission first. 



And that is all from me for now! I hope you all have had a merry Christmas or a good holiday if Christmas isn't a holiday you celebrate! Thank you so much for reading :)

Rosie❤


	2. Prolgue

_Iduna cradles the baby to her chest as the newborn suckles greedily on her breast. It's the early hours, the sun's rays barely peaking over the Northern Ridge, dusk still blanketing the Estelle Palace and its surrounding estate in darkness. A peaceful stillness surrounds the sixteen-year-old and her two elder sisters as they fondly watch their sister and their niece, happy together in their own blissful bubble._

" _She's beautiful, Una." Eighteen-year-old Crown Princess Helga comments, scooting a little closer. "Her skin is absolutely gorgeous!" Iduna smiles proudly, though her weary eyes never leave her baby's face, her daughter's face. Her finger traces the infant's small arm, smooth and fragrant of vanilla._

" _He would have loved her." She whispers into the quiet, a pang rising in her chest at the thought of her lover, her soulmate._

" _I believe it." Ingrid, the eldest of the three agrees. "I can imagine him spoiling her rotten, too." Iduna smiles sadly, as she takes in her babe's honey skin, the exact same shade as her late father. Her hand cards through her daughter's small little brunette curls on the top of her head. All pointing to him. This piece of him that she has._

_That will be taken away from her._

_Her hazel eyes begin to sting as tears of anger and heartbreak gather at her waterline. She doesn't have much time left with her first child. Soon, she'll be collected and given to a family her parents had chosen to 'take over her care'. Iduna wasn't stupid. They were to be her family, her mother and father and siblings if they have other children. A whole new family and her existence would never be brought up, never mentioned, erased from the girl's memory before it had even been written._

_The child releases, now full, and Iduna instinctively moves the baby onto her small stomach, her head resting on her mother's bare shoulder. She pats the babe's back, savouring every pat, every inhale of her scent. The clock in the room ticks as each second passes. Iduna feels the one tear that slowly rolls down her cheek._

" _Would you like us to leave you and your baby be?" Ingrid asks tentatively, stroking the back of the baby's head with her finger. Iduna shakes her head as she sniffles softly._

" _No. You're her family. I want you both here. The only other family that accepts her." The princess replies, the bitter undertone of her words noted. Helga shuffles forward, placing a hand on her younger sister's arm. Iduna shakes her head._

" _We won't talk about them here, not now. Let's savour this moment. Let's savour what time we have left with my little princess,_

_My precious Seita-Astrid."_

* * *

_The clock strike 10 in the morning and Iduna has yet to sleep. They received word that the couple would be arriving within the next half-hour. Ingrid and Helga decided to leave the room, so Iduna could spend time alone with Serena-Astrid. The minute the door shut, the tears that she tried to hold in escaped and her lower lip began to bleed as she bit down to stop the sobs. They continue to fall, hitting the cotton stitch baby-blanket her own mother had knitted for the infant._

_As if that would push Iduna into forgiving her._

" _My precious little princess," Iduna whispers, her voice wavering, "I'm sorry Mama couldn't keep you and raise you like I wanted to. I…I've always wanted to be a mother, to raise children of my own. When I found out I was with child, that you were growing in my belly, I was so overjoyed. I told your father, who I know is watching over you, seated on his own little star in the sky. He would have loved you, Seita-Astrid. He does love you. I know it in my heart. He was so excited to return and meet you. We were excited to raise you together, as a family._

" _But alas, life was never fair, nor was it easy. Your grandparents are more concerned with the image of the royal family, with keeping up with outdated discriminatory laws and practices. It is their fault you're being ripped away from me, my baby. They don't want us together. I promise you Mama wanted to keep you. I begged and pleaded, rebelled to allow you to stay with me, but to no avail~" the words die on Iduna's tongue as the emotions and the exhaustion take over her. she can feel her eyes slipping closed, enveloping her in darkness._

" _N-No. No." the teenager whispers, her arms wrapping tighter around her daughter. She tries to fight it, her eyes blinking blearily. "S-Stay awake, stay awake!" she grits out, though her eyes blink once more,_

_Her eyelashes settling on her cheeks._

* * *

_Ingrid and Helga stand outside the room, their hearts hurting for their baby sister and their niece. "This isn't fair," Helga hisses, crossing her arms as her frown deepens, "Why can't Mother and Father see this is wrong?"_

" _Because it saves their image," Ingrid shrugs, "Why do you think they made you Crown Princess? They don't want someone like_ me _to be Queen." Helga looks to her sister whose face is neutral, but words sting with disappointment._

" _Well, I think it's idiotic. So what if Seita-Astrid was born out of wedlock? Surely they can just give her the lowest title possible, or no title at all and declare her a bastard."_

" _Yes but as bad it sounds Helga, it's simply easier to just send her away and pretend she doesn't exist than to faff around with all of that. Even if it costs them a relationship with their daughter." Ingrid sighs sadly. Helga simply huffs and pouts. The clacking of shoes suddenly sounds on the tiled floor, causing the pair to turn around. Kai, the head Butler, stops a few feet away, a young couple standing behind them._

_The pair take the couple in with distrusting eyes. The woman seems to be few years older than Ingrid, her dark brunette hair flowing gently down her front in natural loose waves. Her skin is tanned, but smooth, her eyes are dark brown and seem to have soul in them. They shimmer with excitement but also with worry. The man seems to be their father's height. His hair is dirty blonde and his skin is quite pale, much like Helga's, though he shares Ingrid's ice blue eyes. He smiles gently at the pair._

" _Your Highnesses, this is Mr. and Mrs. Munde. They will be the young princess' guardians." Kai introduces._

" _Hello." Ingrid greets curtly._

" _Your highnesses, it's an honour." Mrs. Munde says, curtseying._

" _Oh, don't curtsey. We don't like formalities around here." Helga informs them. The couple seem to visibly relax at the statement._

" _Kai, please show the couple to the east wing parlour. Serve them anything they wish. I hope you don't mind, but Iduna is asleep and I don't think-"_

" _We understand," Mr. Munde interrupts, smiling gently, "Please take your time. This is a very difficult situation." Ingrid and Helga look to each other then back to the couple. Helga bows a little, before signalling to Kai to leave._

" _This way."_

_The royal sisters watch as Kai escorts the couple to the parlour, a slight ease settling around them._

_Perhaps their niece will be fine._

* * *

_Iduna mewls as the afternoon sun temporarily blinds her. She rubs her eyes with her fists and slowly begins to sit up, not wanting to cause herself too much pain._

" _Look who's awake, sweet girl." A voice happily whispers. Iduna smiles sleepily, knowing that her sister has her daughter, her little girl hasn't left yet._

" _I have a little present for her," Ingrid says softly, causing Iduna to furrow her eyebrows. Ingrid hands her niece back to her sister, who immediately snuggles the more alert baby to her chest. she watches with awe as Ingrid's hands move through the air, the little snow flurries and snowflakes forming at her fingertips and joining together to form something._

_A thin line of ice turns into an almost glass like chain._

_Snowflakes conjoin into a teardrop, sparkling under the rays of the afternoon sun._

_A necklace falls gently into Ingrid's palm, a smile on her face. She walks towards the bed, her eyes falling onto her niece. "A little parting gift. So she never forgets where she comes from." She says softly. Iduna gasps as the necklace is placed into her hand and the all too familiar sting in her eyes returns. The ice necklace glitters and her eyes immediately land on the golden crocus in the middle of the teardrop – Arendelle's crest._

" _O-Oh, Ingrid. It's beautiful. T-Thank you. Want to put it on her?" Ingrid nods and immediately fastens it around the child's neck. Ingrid grabs her sister's hand, giving it a small squeeze._

" _Are you ready?" Iduna shakes her head, causing tears to roll down her cheeks._

" _No. I'll never be ready. But it must be done."_

* * *

_One week later and the carriage meanders up the cobbled path. Iduna peeks out from behind the curtain, eyeing the familiar line of shops and houses, the bustle of her people as they get on with their day. She looks up and spots the familiar sight of the striking fjord which sits behind the capital, the Nord waterfall falling gracefully into the small bay below it._

_Her hand subconsciously wraps around the pendant which holds a lock of Seita-Astrid's hair, clamping down on her bottom lip to stop the tears. She's done with crying, she's sick of it. She hates the feeling of the tried up tears on her cheeks, she hates the headaches that plague her after crying herself to sleep, clutching the nightgown which still has the faint smell of her daughter clinging to the fibres._

" _As much I as love the Estelle Palace, it feels so good to be home." Helga groans, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Ingrid puts down her book, sighing._

" _I wish I could think the same. the castle is so stifling and…negative." Ingrid says with disgust, causing Helga to giggle. Iduna glances disinterestedly to her sisters, her eyes glazed and swollen from crying for hours the night before. She has the same sentiments. She'd rather drown than return to the castle._

" _What about you, Una? Ready to go home?" Helga asks, to which the youngest scoffs, rolling her eyes._

" _What do you think?" she croaks out, playing with the end of her braid, "Why would I want to return to this godforsaken heap of wood and bricks?" she spits, turning away from her siblings, burying her face into the nightdress. Closing her eyes, she inhales deeply, lip wobbling when she realises the smell of Seita-Astrid is fainter than it had been. She's losing her. She's losing more of her._

_Soon Seita-Astrid will be nothing more than a painful memory,_

_A truth Princess Iduna wishes she could ignore._


	3. Helga's Thoughts

**_Two Years Later_ **

"Helga, how are your studies coming along?" Queen Sonja asks her middle daughter. Said daughter stops mid bite of a pastry, her legs dangling over the arm of the big navy chair by the fire. Helga swallows her bite, grimacing as it lodges somewhere in her chest.

"Y-yeah…yes. They're going quite well. Ingrid has been a great deal of help. She's very knowledgeable. More pf a ruler than I am." Helga says, hitting her chest to try and dislodge the piece of apple strudel which is still stuck. She sees her mother shift uncomfortably at her words, the scowl she seems to permanently wear deepening.

"I-I'm glad. Ingrid has always been the bookworm out of you three. She takes after your father in that aspect."

"Then why name me Father's heir? Why not keep Ingrid as Crown Princess? It makes no sense." Helga comments, slumping back into her chair.

"You know why, Helga. You've _seen_ it."

"Her powers? I've said it before and I will say it once more. that is such an _absurd_ reason. We live in a realm where magic is more common than uncommon. Misthaven is the land of magic and it's only across the sea!" Helga retorts, throwing her arms up in the air, "And besides, father himself said that after Ingrid _Iduna_ would most likely be Queen. So why me?"

"We had thought about it," Sonja answers, standing to her feet, "But then her and that _brute_ fell in love and he got her pregnant-"

" _And_ Una would never do that to Ingrid," Helga interrupts, eyeing the second apple strudel, "Also he wasn't a brute, he was a Northuldran. He was part of an indigenous group of people who still roam in the forests."

"We don't speak about them here." Sonja says sharply, eyeing her daughter.

"Why? Because you and Father are too scared to admit that our family has done nothing but hurt them for centuries? Whatever you say." Helga stands, wiping her hands on the skirt of her dress. She locks eyes with her mother.

"Excuse me, Mother but I must leave. I need to preparing for father's birthday celebration tonight. I will see you at the ball." Helga says, curtseying before swiftly turning and exiting her mother's parlour room, not wanting to spend another minute there.

* * *

"I have no idea how we've survived this long with that woman as a mother. I was this close to jumping off the balcony." Helga groans, earning a soft chuckle from Iduna.

"Because we have each other, Helga. Was she _that_ insufferable?" Iduna questions, slightly distracted as she continues picking out her jewellery to go with her dress. Helga scoffs.

"Of course she was! You know how she is! Honestly, the sooner she dies, the better."

"Helga!" Iduna gasps, looking to her sister with shock, "Don't speak about Mother like that."

"Oh please, I'm just saying what we've thought multiple times." Helga shrugs, rolling off the bed and walking over to the case of jewellery, deciding she should do what she was sent here to do in the first place. She takes her place beside her younger sister, her eyes roaming over the different pieces with disinterest. Helga wasn't one for jewellery. Unlike Iduna, she wasn't very girly, so absolutely abhorred any sort of court functions which required her to wear eye-catching, almost obnoxious pieces of jewellery. A simple pair of earrings and a string of simple pearls would suit her, but unfortunately, she can't do that, especially considering she's the heir, the star of the show.

"Ugh. All of this jewellery is repulsive. What's with all these massive stones? And why are the necklaces so big?"

"You know what Mother is like. She loves to show us off. The bigger the jewellery, the more power and money we boast. Ewa also told me our dresses have been altered, she'd seen them apparently. Mine is pink and yours is purple, but Ingrid's wasn't there, so she doesn't know what it looks like." Iduna explains.

Helga pauses momentarily at her sister's words. Ingrid's dress wasn't there. Ingrid doesn't have a dress. Ingrid isn't going.

Ingrid isn't _allowed_ to go.

"That bitch." Helga mutters under breath, shaking her head. She pushes away from the jewellery display and turns on her heel. She walks out of the room throwing a "pick for me!" over her shoulder, needing to see Ingrid. Helga knew Ingrid like the back of her hand, so immediately made her way to the gazebo in the southern gardens, knowing her sister would be curled up there reading a book.

She passes by the different maids and servants who carry tablecloths and trays and candles, ignoring their bows and utterances of 'your royal highness'. She descends down the spiral staircase hidden behind the stone structure, immediately finding herself opening the old wooden door which led out into the southern gardens. Picking up her skirt, she hurries to the gazebo, a small smirk appearing as she spots those flowing platinum blonde curls blowing in the gentle spring breeze.

"I thought I'd find you here." Helga says, startling Ingrid a little. Frost briefly climbs up the wood of the gazebo, but soon disappears as Ingrid looks eyes with her sister. "Like to inform me why you aren't attending father's celebration?" She asks, crossing her arms. Ingrid sighs as she sets the book in her lap.

"Believe it or not, this was my own decision. Mother and Father had no say this time." Helga takes a step forward, eyes widening.

"R-Really? Mother didn't say _anything_ to you?" Helga asks, sitting beside her sister, not entirely convinced. Ingrid smiles softly at her.

"Helga I know our Mother is…difficult, but for once she hasn't said anything to me. I haven't even seen her physically in the last few days, so we've had no time to have a conversation."

"Lucky you," Helga deadpans, picking at her skirt, "I thought I was going to _explode._ I almost threw a pastry at her when she brought up Asarja."

"Asarja? Why was she talking about him?" Helga rolls her eyes.

"I had the audacity to question their reasoning behind making me heir and bypassing you and mentioned that Father had always said Iduna would make a better queen than me, so making _me_ the heir regardless makes no sense. Mother had mentioned they were going to ask Iduna, but then she fell pregnant with Seita-Astrid and…well, you know the rest."

A silence falls between the two sisters and Helga begins to fall into the depths of her thoughts. Helga rarely got a moment to herself, much less to just think about everything that has happened in the last few years. The dynamic her family had completely changed when she was thirteen, and her tolerance of her parents, whom she was never entirely close with, swiftly began to be torn apart as she watched how their actions affected those around her and herself. Their need to keep that immaculate image, that their family was perfect and could do no wrong, was put before anyone, even their own children.

Ingrid's magic, her 'affliction', needed to be kept under lock and key. No one apart from their family and most trusted servants could know. Though they never explicitly said it, Helga knew they were fearful of her sister. She knew if it weren't for her and Iduna, Ingrid would possibly be locked away somewhere so no-one could find her and she'd fade away into history, her name forgotten. Glancing at her sister and the way her hands ball into tight fists, her lips clamped tight, arms as still as they can possibly be, she can see how much Ingrid fears _herself,_ and how she has no confidence in her powers. And how it's her parents' fault.

She hasn't forgotten the sound of Iduna's gut wrenching sobs as the young couple left the Estelle Palace with Seita-Astrid in their arms. The way Iduna clutches her locket like it's her only lifeline, the way she sleeps with the miniature painting of her daughter under her pillow. Though she never speaks of her, and Helga has enough respect and decency to not mention her, Iduna still misses her child. Helga hears those soft sobs and the broken apologises as her youngest sister relives those heart-breaking moments when she sleeps. She watches as Iduna sneaks out of the castle and into the forests to visit Asarja's grave and returns with swollen red eyes and red cheeks that glisten with remaining tears under the moon's light. And how it's her parents' fault.

She remembers visiting her father in his study that day. It had been a week after they had discovered Ingrid's powers and she had yet to even have a glimpse of her 15-year-old sister after she had been dragged away, the violent blizzard whipping around them in the Grand Hall, chilling her to the bone. Her father sat behind his long, oak desk, face hardened, a deep frown on his lips.

" _Helga, the councillors and I had a meeting a few days prior. As you've witnessed, Ingrid is…a liability. She is not a safe person to be around and I think you can agree with me that her powers are simply too strong and will inhibit her ability to rule the kingdom."_

" _Well I disagree with you,"_ Helga had shot back, _"Ingrid was scared father! You and mother threatened her, made her feel like some sort of monster! Where is she? Where's my sister, I wish to see her, Iduna has been crying for her."_

" _You and Una will see Ingrid soon, but for now I must inform you of succession changes."_ the familiar feeling of anxiety fills Helga's stomach at the memory.

" _Succession changes? What changes? What is-"_

" _The councillors and I have decided that Ingrid is no longer fit to rule," Her father informs, her silencing her, "And We've decided to revoke her Crown Princess title and bestow upon someone else. Upon you."_

And Helga's world flipped. Soon she began to see less and less of Ingrid and Iduna, her days filled with lessons of politics and how to read decrees and make decisions. She took up extra lessons of history and languages, she was taught how to dance, how to address different members from different noble and royal families. She began to fill the shoes Ingrid once wore, though deep down she knew Ingrid would be the perfect queen. Her and Ingrid were polar opposites: Ingrid was intelligent and good with words, while Helga barely picked up a book and always said the wrong things. Ingrid could dance beautifully and was fluent in six different tongues. Helga almost sprained her ankle doing a simple waltz and can barely speak any tongue, barely even her own.

And as she grew and her parents aged, meaning the day which the crown would be placed upon her own head drew nearer, the stress of how far behind she was made Helga ill. And it was her parents' fault.

It was all her parents' fault.

"Helga? Are you alright?" Ingrid's soft voice cuts through her and she lets out a big sigh and bites her lip as the sting of tears begins to form in her eyes.

"Is it bad?" Helga asks, her voice wavering, "that I wish our parents were dead? Am I some sort of ungrateful brat?" Ingrid sighs and places a hand on Helga's shoulder, something she hasn't done in over a year.

"I think sometimes when we are angry or hurt we think these types of things but never mean them."

"But what if I think these things and just imagining them no longer around and actually feel…happy? What if I feel relief knowing that they aren't around?"

"Helga something's troubling you. What is it?" Ingrid questions, her hand moving to hold her's. Helga can feel the slight coolness that radiates from her touch, but it's comforting and makes a single tear roll down her cheek.

"I cannot _stand_ our parents. Every time I see them I just want to scream in their faces, just tell them how they've ruined our lives. We aren't who we used to be. Iduna hardly ever smiles and she cries for her daughter in her sleep. I hardly ever see either of you because I'm carrying out some duty or studying or preparing for a role I don't want, and you…Ingrid you hardly ever use your powers anymore. We haven't made ice cream or played in the snow in the great hall. We haven't gone to hide away in ice palaces or watched colourful snow displays in the sky. They've changed us, Ingrid. And not for the better."

Helga glances to her sister who looks slightly bewildered. Helga chuckles sadly. "I'm not usually one to be so upset, am I? I had no idea I was capable of feeling these types of emotions." Ingrid squeezes her hand.

"Nonsense, Helga. You are capable, but you're a lot like me. It is easier for you to keep them hidden and not let anyone in." Ingrid says, knocking their foreheads together. Said woman stands, not letting go of Helga's hand. "Come. Let's get Gerda to prepare you a bath. I'll help you and Una get ready for the ball. We want you to attract the most attractive princes, don't we?" the snow princess asks, wriggling her eyebrows.

Though she laughs, Helga's insides begin to bubble with anxiety at the question. The prospect of committing herself to a lifelong relationship with a man is very daunting to her, yet she's of marrying age, and should have her eyes open for suitors. The most important duty which her title bears is producing an heir, or even better, an heir and a spare. However, the prospect of childbirth is not appealing to Helga whatsoever, in fact, the more she's pressured about it, the more she just wants to shout at the councillors that she doesn't wish to carry a child and she doesn't wish to marry.

Deciding to not let her thoughts get the best of her, the crown princess stands to her feet, smiling at her older sister. "Alright. Work your magic, your highness." Helga jokes, causing the pair to burst into a fit of giggles as they leave the gazebo behind them and wander back into the castle.


	4. Turmoil

Tears of frustration prick the corners of her eyes as she watches the frost slowly form from her fingertips. It spreads across the wooden box, each little snowflake with its different pattern wrapping around the oak. Ingrid, despite it, places the box carefully into the trunk, along with the rest of her belongings. _The ice will thaw eventually,_ she tells herself, not wanting to work herself up, not wanting to loose control.

Lose control for a second and the wood so sturdy and strong would shatter into hundreds of frozen, icy shards, her own fear and anger at herself overpowering her, making her powers stronger. She'd watch helplessly as the tiny shards fell to the floor, silently asking whoever cursed her with her powers what she had done to deserve this? The curse disguised as a 'blessing'.

A blessing. That's what the elders of the Northuldran tribe had told her when her and Helga snuck out one night. It had been the end of January, three weeks after finally being allowed out of the cell. Ingrid had been desperate for answers, wanting to learn more about her affliction, how she got it, why she was given them, how to get rid of them. She had seen the smoke and flames rise from above the forests. She had watched in awe as the reds and oranges and yellows danced around the sky, creating pictures, stories. When all was completely still, she heard them, the Northuldra sing.

It was beautiful.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, her red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks, the words of the elder ring through her ears, as if he stands next to her just as he had that night. Helga had done most of the talking, Ingrid to scared yet also to shy to say anything.

" _We aren't here to harm you. I promise you, we are not our father."_

Our father. The man Ingrid and her sisters were meant to look up to, the man who was meant to guide Ingrid and teach her how to be the ruler she thought he was. Courageous and wise, kind but firm. She had wholeheartedly believed that was the man whose footsteps she would follow in. And now she wished no part of her was connected to him.

However the elder had pointed something out that night.

" _My dear, you have blessed by the spirits who surround us, you are connected to them. Which spirit, I cannot tell. Those who are chosen can control water, control air, control earth, control fire. However you control snow and ice. Snow and ice are water but in different forms, but Water would not bless a second while the first still lives. There is a spirit who lives among us who has not made themselves seen. And you are their messenger. You have been blessed."_

Ingrid sighs as she feels the same weight on her chest as she had that night as the pair had left the tribe. Helga buzzed next to her, full of excitement and wonder as she babbled on about what the elder had told her. Ingrid herself, wanted to throw up from anxiousness and panic, wanted to sob in anger. That wasn't what she had wanted to hear at all. She wanted the elder to tell her how he could fix it, how he could take it away so she could be normal.

" _Ingrid, you're like a fairy! You have magic, you're beautiful! you're like some sort of fairy protector!"_ Helga had gushed to her, the thirteen-year-old princess in awe of her sister. Though now those words meant so much to her, then those words left a sour taste in Ingrid's mouth. The silent tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks as she allowed her horse to guide the pair through the forests and back to the palace, her self-hatred growing in the pit of her stomach.

The chime of the distant clock startles Ingrid back to reality. Twelve chimes. Midnight. Terror runs through her veins. Her sisters will be back. They weren't meant to see her; she was meant to be gone.

With trembling hands, the princess haphazardly throws the rest of her belongings into the trunk slamming it shut.

"Ingrid you have to try this, the royal baker really outdid himself."

Ingrid gasps at the sound of Helga's voice. She whips her head around, only to meet her eyes. The room grows colder and her sisters' faces blur together with the room, just a jumble of water and colour.

"Ingrid?" Iduna's voice is small and quiet, but she can hear the tremble, of sadness, of worry. Ingrid averts her gaze to the floor, embarrassed and ashamed.

"I…I was supposed to be gone before you both returned." She admits, her cheeks red and hot. Helga sets the plate down on her bedside table, though her eyes never leave her elder sister. Ingrid can feel their gazes bore into her. she hears the clacking of shoes and she briefly glances upwards, seeing Helga make her way to her slowly.

"Where? Where were you going to go?" Helga asks, though her voice can barely be heard. Ingrid shuffles backwards, feeling a little intimidated. "Ingrid?"

"I…I need…I-" Ingrid fumbles over her words, looking between the two other women in the room. Her hand grazes the trunk full of her belongings, and that small touch is all that is needed for ice to begin to slowly creep along the wood. She looks to Helga, who has a comforting smile on her face. She looks to Iduna who rocks on her feet, looking like she wants to run to her. A watery chuckle escapes Ingrid's lips and shuddery breath is all that is heard before Ingrid's solemn voice fills the empty silence.

"I was going to leave Arendelle. Forever." She admits, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I don't belong here."

"Ingrid you-"

"I don't. I don't and you know it." Ingrid says, cutting Iduna off. Her eyes begin to sting with tears of anger. "I'm not like either of you. I'm not able to-to go out and visit the country or-or sneak out to the confectionery shop or greet all the children who love to ask what it's like to live in the palace. I'm not able to attend balls or meet other royalty. I can't comfort you when you're upset, I won't be there to see Helga crowned or see either of you marry or hold any of your children. I can't be the Queen I had always wanted to be. I can't be…I just can't _exist here._ " Ingrid let's out, inhaling a huge breath.

The temperature of the room plummets and soon a gust of wind begins to form. "They constantly tell me how disappointed they are in me. How much they hate that I became this way. They always say how much they wished that I were normal, how if I was they wouldn't keep me locked away. They wouldn't have punished me. They'd actually be proud of me." Ingrid rambles, completely oblivious to the winds picking up speed, to the wet flurries that stick to her pale skin.

"I always let the two of you down. You always try to get me to come when we have guests or try to take me outside of the palace. You always try for me and I give you nothing in return. I'm not entirely sure how you both could love me as much as you do. I'm a terrible sister I'm…I'm a monster." Ingrid mutters, clenching her fists to her sides. Her platinum blonde locks whip violently around her, the blizzard surrounding her, closing in on her.

There are distant voices that she can hear, calling her name, trying to reach her, but they seem so far away. The wind growls in her ear, the words of her parents just spin around and around in her head.

" _If only you hadn't turned out this way. You would have been such a wonderful monarch."_

" _As if I'd trust you. You're a liability. Those powers of yours could ruin everything, they've already ruined the line of succession, what more could you wreck?"_

" _It's just so disappointing that you can't figure it out. I thought you were smarter than that Ingrid."_

A buzz grows inside of her chest, the tears flow steadily, but each tear is blown off her cheek, sucked into the blizzard that crashes around her. "Just suck me up," she growls, "Suck me up and take me away. Kill me if you must! Kill me and erase me from history, do it, DO IT!" She screams.

The vortex of grey grows closer and closer and those platinum blue eyes begin to water from the howling winds. She feels each flurry on her cheek, the coolness calming her. She closes her eyes and opens her arms, welcoming the storm, welcoming her demise.

"INGRID STOP, PLEASE!" Her eyes snap open and she stares in blue eyes similar to her own. They're shimmering and she immediately recognises the pain that's being held in them.

"H-Helga?"

And there's silence once again.

The blizzard disappears as if had never been there. No snow, no ferocious winds. No flurries, no thoughts. Just the room, a room of darkness, a room of still. But somehow Ingrid can still make out her eyes in the darkness. She's her light in the darkness.

Ingrid gasps as another body collides with hers. She feels arms snake around her waist, feels a head bury itself into her chest and words she had wished to hear for so long are whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

" _You are not a monster."_

Her bottom lip quivers as Iduna's warmth envelops her, and the love she has for her just slowly seeps into her. She's her warmth in the cold. Cautiously, she allows herself to hug Iduna back, her shaking arms wrapping around the smaller woman.

"I'm…I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, it's clear you needed to let it all out. I had no idea you were suffering so much inside." Helga sighs, making her way over. Ingrid sniffles and just hugs her little sister tighter.

"Neither did I," she admits shyly, "I mean I knew I was hurting but I just didn't know by how much."

The trio don't say anything for a while, all just revelling in each other's company. Ingrid opens her arm, a small smile on her face, beckoning Helga to join the hug. Helga rushes into it, gathering both of them into her arms. They all stand there, peaceful. However, after a moment, Iduna pulls pack looking uncertain. Helga furrows her eyebrows.

"Una? Are you alright?" Iduna begins to play with her fingers. She looks to her eldest sister.

"Ingrid you…you don't actually wish to remove your powers do you?" Iduna asks. Ingrid shrugs.

"I'm not exactly sure, Iduna. I mean, in a perfect world, yes I would like to, but for now I guess I'll just have to find ways to control them."

"Why do you ask? Do you want her to get them taken away?" Helga questions, looking at Iduna quizzically. Iduna gasps.

"No! How dare you insinuate that! I love Ingrid for who she is and I would _never_ want her to feel like she has to have them removed!" Iduna fumes, stamping her foot like a child.

"Then why did you ask then?" The youngest princess falls silent. She looks between her two sisters, not entirely sure if she should reveal what she knows. She looks to Ingrid, the sister who needs help. She looks inquisitive, but also slightly worried. After what she revealed, Iduna realised she needed to step up and be a better sister. She knew Ingrid and their parents hardly got on, but she didn't know that their parents _neglected and abused_ her sister.

_But would he really help?_

Letting out a sigh, Iduna shuffles from foot to foot. "I-I think I know someone who can help." She mutters.

"What did you say, Una?" Helga asks. Iduna looks to the pair.

"A-Across the Long Ocean in Misthaven. There's a…a man who dwells there. His name is Rumpelstiltskin. He's one of the most powerful sorcerers to have ever lived. If what I've heard about him is true, then he may be able to help Ingrid control her powers. He may even be able to give you lessons!" Iduna finishes hopefully, grabbing onto Ingrid's hand. Ingrid looks to Iduna and then Helga.

"Ingrid? What do you think?" Helga asks. Ingrid swallows thickly.

"I think…I think we may be taking a trip. A trip to Misthaven."


	5. The First Visit

"Are you uh…are you sure this is his castle?" Ingrid asks sceptically, slowing her walk down as she eyes the castle in front of her. She's met with a frightfully overgrown garden, pale green and yellow weeds poking out from between the cracks of stone. Flowers all shrivelled and colourless lay lifeless on the ground or dropped over where they once stood beautiful and proud. The stones which she stood on were just as cracked or chipped as the ones where the flower beds were.

And that was just the courtyard.

"I'm sure of it. Every man and woman we asked pointed to this…this place." Iduna says, swallowing thickly as she looked around worriedly. Helga scoffs.

"I thought you said he was the most powerful sorcerer to exist. Surely he'd be able to find someone to…keep the place tidy." Helga says, causing Iduna to grab her wrist.

"Be quiet. He has eyes and ears everywhere." She hisses to her sister, giving her a pointed look. Helga snatches her wrist back, glaring.

"You're not _afraid_ are you?" Helga teases, causing Iduna to pout and Ingrid to roll her eyes. She opens to mouth to scold the two and to remind them why they're here, but a voice suddenly appears.

"She'd be right to be afraid, _deary._ "

Three pairs of eyes widen and look around wildly. Ingrid clenches her hands as she feels her magic surge within her. She walks quickly to her sisters, putting her arms in front of them. "Stay close." She whispers, before turning back out to the empty courtyard. "Show yourself at once." She commands, her voice echoing against crumbling stone. A shrill, manic chuckle manifests.

"Why of course, _your highness."_ And before any of the three women can move, they're enveloped in twinkling, maroon smoke. It soon dissipates and their feet land back onto solid ground. Solid, _carpeted_ ground. In awe they look around and see they're inside the run-down castle, inside a large room. Large, medieval tapestries line each red wall, starting near the ceiling and almost touching the ground. The candles all glow vibrantly, making the room look almost as if it was on fire.

"Wow, this man has very eccentric taste." Ingrid comments.

"Why thank you princess." The voice says.

The three jump and swiftly turn around. Before them, lay a long wooden table, slightly worn, with nothing on it. But there he is. He sits in a chair, similar to that of a throne on the other end of the table. His eyes look green-grey and lifeless, his hair, greasy and wavy. His skin is like no other that any of the princesses had seen, it was green, perhaps even grey, and bumpy and scaly, covering him from head to toe. He smirks as he folds his hands in front of him. "Well, well, well. What have we got here?" He questions, his voice low and hoarse, but also somehow high-pitched.

"The three princesses of Arendelle. All known throughout the lands as the prettiest of all the princesses and duchesses and ladies this realm has to offer." The three look at each other, unconvinced. Ingrid steps forward, though grabs her sisters hands, intertwining her fingers with theirs.

"We've… _I've_ come for help. My sister told me you are the most powerful sorcerer in the realm." Ingrid says her voice a little unsteady. Rumpelstiltskin simply hums, nodding slowly as his soulless eyes meet hers, ice blue and shining.

"And what seems to be your problem?"

"I have magic," Ingrid starts, "nowhere near as powerful as yours, but I possess it. The power of ice and snow. I can manipulate it to whatever I choose." The sorcerer leans forward in his chair, his head titled, signalling he wants to know more.

"Very rare. I've not heard of any magic wielder to have powers such as yours."

"Well hopefully, if you help me, there will be no-one with such power. I wish to get rid of them." Ingrid informs him.

"But…but your powers are so rare and such a gift. Why would you ever want to give them up?" He asks a little shocked.

"They…they're simply too strong for me to control. My sister told me you were the most powerful sorcerer in our realm. You _must_ have something which can help me." Ingrid pleads, though she keeps her features schooled. He slowly stands, their eyes never parting from each other's. Her heart hammers against her chest as he slowly makes his way towards them.

"Now, let me make something clear to you, your highness. Unless you want to risk your _life_ there will be no stripping you of your powers." Ingrid furrows her eyebrows, lips turning into a frown.

"But surely you-"

"Your magic runs through your veins much like your blood. It is a part of you. And if you strip that part from you it is painful. _Very painful._ " Rumple heeds, his voice suddenly right against her ear. Ingrid shivers as his words ring in her ears.

"Surely I'd be able to handle the pain." Ingrid says, though her voice wavers. Rumple lets out a shriek of laughter like a madman as he stalks around the three princesses.

"You think _you_ would be able to handle it? You- ha! You _wish_ you'd be able to handle it your highness. Now that we have established I'm not stripping you of your magic, may I suggest a few lessons. They'd be taught by yours truly." He giggles. Ingrid shakes her head.

"My powers are too far gone for lessons. I need something to help control them." Ingrid says, slightly annoyed. Iduna had told her that this man was one of the most powerful sorcerers, the most knowledgeable person in their realm when it came to magic. Now he's refusing to take away her powers and is offering her _lessons?_ For her uncontrollable powers?

"I'm beginning to think you're a fraud." She retorts.

" _Ingrid._ " Iduna warns under breath, tugging on her sister's arm.

"And I'm beginning to think you lack critical thinking skills." Rumple scoffs back with a roll of his eyes. Ingrid steps forward to tell him off, but he holds a hand up. "If _you_ want to control _your_ powers, _you_ need to _believe in yourself._ You can't just simply wear a pair of gloves and think 'oh! My problems are solved!'. The problem with you deary, is that you lack self-belief and confidence. Those two things are crucial for those who possess magic." Ingrid simply blinks at the man, feeling like she'd just been read like an open book.

He turns to face her and her sisters, and a pair of blue gloves appear in his hands. "A false sense of security won't help either. I can give you these gloves and send you merrily on your way, have you thinking that now you have these gloves, your prayers have been answered. Hurray!" He mockingly cheers. "But say they got lost, got taken from you. That security, that safety you began to feel and that began to build around you crumbles around you and you're back to where you're started." He hisses, his voice growing quieter and quieter.

Ingrid steps forward, her fingers slipping from her sisters', her eyes on the gloves. Rumpelstiltskin's words seem to just echo in her ears. Self-belief? Confidence? How can she believe in herself if she destroys everything within her reach? How can she be confident if everyone views her as a living and breathing monster?

"Now that just isn't true, is it?" Ice blue eyes snap up to meet, dead, dull green-grey ones. Ingrid cocks her head to the side.

"I…I beg your pardon?"

"You genuinely think everyone views you as a monster? Well you clearly haven't been paying attention. Look behind you." Confused, Ingrid turns and sees her sisters standing there. Helga has her glare set on the man in front of her, hands balled into fists at her sides. Iduna stands a little behind Helga, twirling the end of one of her braids nervously. None the less, she beams a smile at her.

"You're lucky to have sisters like them supporting you. Loving you for who you are. I can tell you that they don't view you as a monster. The love you three have each other, _true love_ , is some of the strongest magic to exist." Ingrid can't help but smile at his words. Helga hums in agreement.

"He's right, Inge." Helga says softly. _Inge._ A childhood pet name that Ingrid had tried so hard to forget. Her mother had called her that for as long as she could remember. Her sisters called her that when they were small. Some of the staff who worked in the castle that were close with the family would call her that. It just rolled off everyone's tongue.

Until that day. After that, Ingrid refused to be called Inge. To be reminded of the girl she had been before, the girl that everyone loved and wasn't afraid of.

"We love you. We love you so much more than you realise."

"Helga's right," Iduna says affirmatively, "We know you'd never hurt us with your powers. Remember when you first discovered them?"

"But I killed that man." Ingrid whimpers.

"Yes. You killed someone trying to kidnap children and sell them. That was a life no-one would miss, Ingrid." Iduna rushes forward, taking Ingrid's trembling hands in hers. "I believe in you; Helga believes in you. That's all you need. You don't need our parents or the people to believe in you. You just need us."

Ice blue eyes stare into hazel ones, both shimmering under the candlelight. Ingrid squeezes her sister's hands, nodding. "Okay," she breathes out, turning to Rumpelstiltskin, "So I don't need the gloves. I have my sisters. But what if, just…just what if one day something happens. I want something to _guarantee_ that I'll never hurt anyone. Ever." Rumple wriggles his eyebrows.

"You mean a failsafe?" he questions, rubbing his fingers together. He stalks over to a small stone table, where a brass urn stands. It's small and looks cold. Squinting, Ingrid sees it has elder futhark runes carved into the front. An ancient way of writing used in Arendelle and some of the surrounding lands. Ingrid had studied them when she was still Crown Princess. The sorcerer lifts it up and it hits the light, the runes jumping out at her.

With a shudder and a gasp she steps closer to Iduna, wrapping her arms around her. "Ingrid?" Helga says stepping forward. Ingrid swallows thickly the runes dancing across her line of vision.

ᛞᚨᛜᛖᚱ!×ᚹᛁᚦᛁᚾ×ᛚᚨᛁᛊ×ᚢᚾᛞᛟᛁᛜ

_Danger! within lays undoing_

"This failsafe is only for the direst of circumstances," Rumple's voice informs, breaking through ingrid's thoughts, "When you feel as though your powers are not only a danger to yourself, but a danger to others. One simply has to pop the top and in you go. Locked away and everyone is safe from you." Ingrid glances to her sisters, who both eye the urn warily. Letting go of Iduna's hand, Ingrid steps forward to take the urn. The man takes a step back, holding the urn away from him.

"Uh, I don't know what your sister told you deary, but she clearly left out a vital piece of information about me. I don't just offer my services for free. You must give me something in return." Ingrid looks to her feet, slightly embarrassed.

"I-uh…I…we have money we could give you an-"

"I don't want money," Rumple scoffs, flicking his wrist, "I want something… _valuable._ Something much more valuable than money." He turns to Iduna, a smirk on his face. He makes his way over, a little pep in his step. "So it was your idea, was it? You knew I could help your sister?"

* * *

Iduna shrugs indifferently, looking up to meet the dark ones eyes.

"I didn't know _exactly_ if you could help, but from what I had overheard you were our best chance. My sister deserves to live a happy life where she can be free to be herself. As someone who knows about magic I thought maybe you'd be able to help." She explains, nudging her sister playfully, earning herself a soft little chuckle from Ingrid. Rumple hums, rubbing his chin.

"Well, you were obviously right. Your sister is now equipped. Both with a way to grow in self confidence and belief…and a way out of a sticky situation! But now, since you were the one who brought her to me, I want something from you." Rumple says. Iduna nods.

"What is it that you want? I don't have a lot on my person."

"Well, I am the Dark One. I can simply poof to your palace and get it. When you return home, of course. I do have manners." Iduna raises an eyebrow. Now it's her turn to step forward. She closes the distance between her and the Dark One, their eyes never breaking their gaze. She sticks her chin out, eyes narrowing.

"Name your price." She insists, sticking her hand out for him to shake. With a small noise of excitement, Rumpelstiltskin clasps his hand with hers, his dry, callous skin grating against her own.

"I don't want much just…the most precious trinket you have ever owned." Iduna scrunches her face up. She had expected more, having heard the tales of him ripping people from their families, making double-sided deals. She glances behind her, to see her elder sisters looking at them with scepticism. She understands their feelings, she feels the same. He is the Dark One after all and none of them have the slightest idea of what he is truly capable of.

Exhaling deeply, she turns back to the sorcerer, not questioning his request. She'd rather come out of this with no-one she knows and loves dearly being harmed. If he wants some random trinket, he can have it. "I have a necklace," Iduna informs him, "That was my great grandmother's. It's made of pink and blue sapphire. I don't care for it as it is quite an ugly thing. You could get a lot of gold for it; those jewels are priceless." Rumple nods slowly, a smile slowly growing on his chapped lips.

"Oh believe me. When I'm finished with it, I'll have something that even gold cannot match in terms of worth." He intones. "Just simply call my name, and I will appear ready to take my reward." Iduna says nothing, stepping back from him. He bows to them.

"Your highnesses. It was pleasure doing business with you."


	6. Musings and Far-away Meetings

The rusty iron gates slam shut behind the three princesses. Iduna can’t help but take a final glance behind her at the Dark Castle. A shiver creeps down her spine as the castle looms over her, overgrown and somehow shrouded in grey clouds and gloominess. Helga sighs a sigh of relief as she begins to walk away. “Well, I’m glad that’s over. I can’t believe he only wanted a necklace, I thought he would want one of our souls or something.” Taking a deep breath, Iduna turns from the castle and begins to follow her sister.

“Careful now, don’t let him here you. He may reconsider.” Ingrid jokes, though there’s a hint of worry in her words.

“I highly doubt it. He’s getting a whole necklace of sapphires. He can probably spin it into something much more valuable, like he said, and get a lot of gold for it.” Helga replies. Iduna shrugs, but Ingrid makes a noise of consideration.

“I suppose. Anyways, let’s not dwell on it. We’ve finished our business and now I can finally begin to live again. And I have you to thank for that.” Ingrid says, grabbing Iduna’s shoulder. The youngest princess beams with pride, wrapping an arm around her sister’s waist.

“It was the least I could do, Inge. You deserve to have a life like Helga and me. You should be able to attend balls, fall in love, sneak to kitchens at night and eat chocolate.”

“Wait, _that’s_ where the pair of you sneak off to? To the kitchens? To eat chocolate. And you don’t think to invite me?”

“What are you offended?”

“Yes! Quite!” Ingrid says, which causes the three princesses to erupt into a fit of giggles as they continue walk down the cobblestone path. Helga clutches her stomach and asks through a laugh,

“Where do you think we go?” Wiping a tear from the corner of her eyes Ingrid raises her shoulders while making a face.

“I don’t know. I thought perhaps you might be sneaking out to meet a young soldier or a kitchen boy.”

Helga and Ingrid continue to laugh, but Iduna abruptly stops, the laughter immediately dying away. The smile is swiftly wiped off her lips, and the warm buzz of happiness is quenched with that familiar cold emptiness. That goddamn lump that always forms at the slightest thought of him begins to form in her throat and she scrunches up some of her skirt, not wanting those midnight visits to dampen the mood.

Somehow, she musters out a fake, pained laugh, but luckily her sisters seem to buy it and begin their own little conversation. The youngest princess now isn’t in the mood to talk or be happy. She just wants to run away. Down the beaten path from the castle’s eastern gate, past the bog where they had gone catching frogs, through the clearing where he picked her those deep orange honeysuckles and purple crocuses, through the arch of the broken southern magnolia tree, where he had asked for hand in marriage, where she had told him she was pregnant with his child.

And to the clearing where the willow tree sat. Where that one ray of moonlight peaked through the canopy.

And where that moonlight caught the tiny diamond particles in the granite stone, where underneath Asarja lay, sleeping peacefully; something she likes to tell herself.

“I do go sneaking out to meet someone. A boy.” She suddenly says, just loud enough for her sisters to hear. The crunch of earth stops.

“Wait, what?” Helga asks confused.

“I go through the eastern gate. And I walk down that old path. And then,” she chokes slightly on the welling tears, “I go past this bog where there are a lot of frogs that…that I would catch~” She feels that familiar wetness on her cheek as that same overwhelming pain she felt when she first found out he had died overtakes her. She looks to see her sisters looking worried, but also bewildered at the sudden overcome of emotion.

She understands. Iduna never talks about Asarja, not in the palace. All those soldiers who stood at the doors, at the gates, were loyal to her father. And her father couldn’t know that she still heavily mourns the first boy she had ever loved. Whose she still deeply loves.

“And then I walk under this archway of a deformed magnolia tree until I finally make it to the clearing. T-The clearing where Asarja is buried. W-When I’m not eating chocolate, I’m there, with him, so he isn’t alone. B-Because he hated being alone at night.”

A silence so thick hangs around the trio, it’s almost as if the surrounding trees were stilled by her admission, her loyalty, by her pain.

“So, yes. I do go sneaking out sometimes to see a boy. B-but I don’t _see_ him. Just…just his name. His name etched on the stone where he lays underneath.”

And Iduna flees, sprinting past her sisters, everything around her just a jumbled, teary mess of brown and green.

* * *

She doesn’t know how long she’s been running. Her lungs and throat burn, she’s choking on silent sobs. Her chest feels like it might explode. Her sisters’ voices can’t be heard anymore, she must have outrun them. About to collapse from exhaustion and emotion, she spots a little trail that seems to come off the main path. She wants to lay down, to collect herself. She stumbles towards it, tripping over her own feet.

Her hand smashes into the trunk of a tree, and her arm quivers as she tries to hold herself up. Her stomach is whirling, the bile bubbling around. Looking up to the sky, she inhales a long, breath, allowing her deprived lungs the oxygen they need. She silently wills herself to stop crying, because that’s all she does now when it comes to Asarja. Cry. Sometimes a little cry, sometimes sobs, sometimes a full-on breakdown kicking trees or throwing rocks so hard against the ground that they split and break.

Her mother had said _“Oh, she’ll be over it after a few months. It was just a young romance.”_ Her father told one of his most trusted advisors _“For god’s sake, that girl hasn’t left her bedroom, crying over some boy who probably enchanted her into loving him.”_ And Iduna, though she seems tolerable of her parents, wants them to die. Helga had been right that afternoon before their father’s birthday celebration. She felt the same way too. She wants them dead, gone, out of her life.

The only reasons she doesn’t dwell on it is because Asarja wouldn’t want that. He was more accepting of her parents than their own daughters. He knew how they’d grown up with made-up stories of his people and how they did awful, barbaric things. He understood that they just needed to see how the Northuldra really were, how peaceful and kind they were. One of his greatest wishes was that the Arendellians and the Northuldra finally put aside their differences and come together, become one, unified nation.

And Iduna will do _anything_ to make that happen.

She goes to wipe the stale tears off her cheeks but realises they’ve already dried. She isn’t crying anymore. In fact, she’s not even frowning, the faintest smile is on her lips. Though she stands under a thick canopy of evergreens, a single sunbeam shines on her, encasing her in light. She shakes her head, her eyes catching onto the bracelet Asarja had made her when he first told her he loved her. “My sunshine,” She whispers, “I feel your warmth. I feel your love.”

“Papa, c’mon!”

Iduna is snatched from her moment of ambivalent bliss. She hears a giggle and the rustle of leaves and snapping of twigs. Someone is coming. Not wanting to be seen in her state, she quickly hides behind the tree she had collapsed on. The giggle grows louder and the familiar crunch of the dry path sounds.

“All right, my little trinket, you win this time!” A man’s voice says feigning sadness.

_That voice._

With curiosity, Iduna slowly repositions herself so she can peak around the wide trunk. At first, she only sees the back of the man but can see he has dirty blonde hair and quite muscular arms. His skin is tanned, as if he’s been working out in the day for long periods of time.

_But that voice._

She hopes this isn’t her mind, so exhausted from grief, playing some cruel trick on her. The gods watching above know how much she has longed to travel to Misthaven, on her own, without anyone, to seek her daughter out. To see her, smell her, touch her, hold her close. Every day that longing for her child grows, some days becoming almost unbearable. On those days she does nothing but go to Asarja’s grave, bringing that one small painted portrait of Seita-Astrid, laying in silence, or crying softly.

But perhaps her longing can be stopped, just for little while.

The man turns his head, looking further down the path and Iduna’s hands begin to shake as she sees those ice-blue eyes. Those ice-blue eyes that she remembers she thought looked so much like Ingrid’s. His eyes. Ewan Munde’s eyes. Mr. Munde. Iduna falls back in shock. If that’s him than that little voice must be-

_Oh…oh my god._

There she was.

Babbling on about something in the most adorable way. Her dark brown eyes sparkling in the summer sun with so much joy and wonder. Those round, upturned eyes with long and pretty eyelashes so much like Asarja’s. Her skin, a deep honey brown, so smooth and beautiful, her smile that was just like her own revealing a rosy glow under those chubby cheeks. Iduna, however, couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at the sight of her hair. Those soft brunette curls that had laid on top of that new-born head now a beautiful crown of thick springy coils. Coils that are _auburn._ How on earth did her hair turn from brunette to auburn?

None the less though, her hair seems to sparkle as it bounced around her shoulders, looking possibly as if it’s highlighted with streaks of gold. The tears that had only stopped minutes ago have returned full force, although this time, Iduna doesn’t feel the weight of grief on her chest. Instead her chest was free of that burden and she could breathe easily. A spark of happiness erupts within her, knowing that her baby-girl is happy and healthy and just so perfect, almost too perfect, for the world.

“I want to eat the berries, please? Please?” Seita-Astrid begs, and Iduna must restrain herself from jumping out from behind the tree and squeezing her daughter tightly and bopping that beautiful, soft button nose. Her little voice is so angelic, as is her giggle. Everything about her, just everything is so perfect.

_She’s mine. And his. She’s mine and his._

They had created her. Her and Asarja. That was their daughter. No matter if someone else has to raise her for now or forever, no matter if this is the last time she ever sees her. Seita-Astrid is their daughter. The daughter of a princess, the daughter of the next high chief. She is royalty, she is a princess,

But to Iduna, Seita-Astrid is her baby-girl, from now until forever.


	7. Conversations and Brief Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I know it's January 2nd, but Happy New Year! 2020 was certainly a year for the history books and I know it wasn't ideal for any of us. However, I hope that 2021 will be a much better year for you all :)
> 
> From Rosie 💖

“Helga she could be _anywhere!_ Misthaven is so big and unknown and she’s probably lost or-” Helga rolls her eyes as Ingrid continues to ramble on in a state of panic. Luckily, it was Iduna who went missing and not her. Both Ingrid and Iduna have the tendency to overly worry, regardless if the situation requires _no worry_ at all. Helga, however, can keep a level head, not let the pressure of the situation get to her.

Besides, this situation did not require that much panic or stress. Iduna would know not to run off extremely far, especially in a land as foreign as Misthaven. She is a princess, alone, in the middle of a wood. Why would she risk putting herself in danger?

Helga turns to her sister, grabbing her by the shoulders. She shakes her. “You need to calm down before you turn this forest into a winter wonderland.” She says, causing Ingrid to pout. Helga sighs before putting a reassuring smile on her face. “Listen to me. Please don’t blame yourself for this. How on earth would you know about her visiting Asarja? She never speaks of him anyway.”

“But _you_ know about those visits.” Ingrid says helplessly.

“Well, yes, but she doesn’t know I know. Asarja is such a hard topic of conversation for her. I don’t mention it. Remember the times I tried to get to her talk about him? She shot the conversation down before it could even take flight.”

“I-I suppose. I’m such a bad si-”

“Nope, I’m not having this conversation with you again,” Helga interrupts, holding her hand up, “You _did not know,_ Ingrid. Besides, I was confused at first too. I thought she meant a…well, you know, _living_ boy.” Ingrid smiles a little, which causes Helga’s to grow. “Iduna would never be mad at you. She-”

“You’re right.”

Helga tuns around. Iduna stands there, her cheeks puffy and eyes slightly swollen and red. She averts her gaze to the ground, rocking back and forth on her heels. Ingrid rushes forward, the urn she’s been carrying with her falling and hitting the ground. Without hesitation she wraps Iduna up in her slender arms, hugging her close to her chest.

“Iduna, I am _so sorry._ I didn’t mean to make you so upset.” Ingrid apologises. 

“You don’t have to apologise Ingrid. I would never be mad at you for something like that. It was joke. It was funny.”

“But it wasn’t for you. It made you really upset.” Iduna shrugs.

“It isn’t your fault that anything and everything can remind me of him. He may be gone, but…but the pain of losing him hasn’t. I just needed to let it all out. Alone.”

“I can understand that, but for the love of god, do not pull something like that again. I was worried we would have an early winter here. You gave her a heart attack.” Helga begs, nodding towards the sister who has her hugged as close as humanly possible. Iduna peaks out from the hug, a sparkle in her eye.

“We might just have that early winter.” She whispers. Ingrid loosens her grip, looking down to meet her eyes.

“Oh my god!” Helga exclaims, her hand cupped over her mouth, “Oh my god, you had sex in the forest, didn’t you?”

“WHAT? NO!” Iduna shouts shooting her sister a pointed look. Helga begins to snigger as Ingrid chokes on a breath. The dirty blonde walks over with a pep in her step, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

“What is wrong with you?” Iduna hisses, slapping Helga on the forearm.

“Um, excuse me. One of the ladies who works in the kitchen told me that sex can be cathartic and help…well, help you forget things for a while. Plus, you were gone for _hours_ , so you know. Anything could have happened. Besides, you were you the first one of us to lose our virginity.”

“I doubt that.” Ingrid rasps out, looking Helga up and down. Iduna looks away, trying to stop the contain her laughter.

“Right, okay. Somehow this has been turned on me, so I will just remind you that Una most certainly has sex in the woods with some stranger when-”

“HELGA! Please just…stop talking. I _did not_ have sex with anyone.” Iduna confirms firmly, narrowing her eyes at her sister.

“Then why did you take so long to return, hmm?”

“Because I didn’t want hear your whiny little voice.” She banters, causing Helga to act offended. After a short giggle, Iduna returns to her previously quiet and awkward state.

She doesn’t understand her hesitance to tell them. Perhaps she wants to keep the encounter to herself. It is _her_ daughter that she saw after all, and for those few sacred minutes, it had felt like everything in _her_ world had been righted. It had felt like Asarja was there as she felt the warmth of the sun tingle her skin, and Seita-Astrid had been there, in front of her, almost like she had gone to pick berries as she kept a watchful eye from afar.

But Ingrid and Helga had been there when she had given birth. They held her hand as Seita-Astrid entered the world. They both held her and whispered words of love to her; Ingrid had made her baby that beautiful necklace. They had cried when they watched the Mundes left the Estelle Palace with that little bundle. Iduna’s love for her child may be fierce, but there is no denying that Ingrid and Helga loved her, too.

“I saw Seita-Astrid.” She mumbles, though her mumbling was so soft even she couldn’t recognise her own words.

“What is- are you speaking in another tongue or something? What did you say?” Helga asks, stepping forward more to hear her.

“I saw Seita-Astrid and Ewan Munde. I saw them.” She says, louder this time. She looks to Helga, then to Ingrid. Both blondes seem to look to each other than to anywhere else but her. Their eyes wide, Helga’s mouth moving up and down but no sound, Ingrid is pacing up and down. Iduna knew they’d be shocked, but she didn’t think they’d be _this_ shocked.

“Wait, wait, wait. You _saw_ her? You saw Seita-Astrid? With your own two eyes? Are you-are you sure it was even her?” Ingrid questions. Iduna laughs.

“I’m certain. She was wearing the necklace you made her Inge. Also, I think the big give away was that she was with Ewan.” Ingrid stops mid pace.

“You saw the necklace? She still wears it?”

“Yes. I recognised the way the sun reflected off the chain. A way that I’ve observed it only reflects off things you create.” Ingrid smiles.

“Well tell us then! How gorgeous is she?” Helga asks, waving Iduna’s arm around.

“Oh, Helga she’s…she’s so perfect” Iduna beams proudly, “She’s absolutely perfect!”

* * *

“Your highnesses! Welcome home! Did you enjoy your travels?” The footman asks, helping them down the gangplank.

“We did, thank you Charles. Anything you would like to update us on?” Helga asks. Charles helps all of them into the waiting carriage before answering,

“The Duke and Duchess of Uxtan have arrived to stay at the castle for the next 14 days. They’ve come with their son, Agnarr.” The three princesses glances at each other with suspicion.

“Did our father give a reason as to why they’re here?”

“I’m afraid not your highness. Any business with them has been kept strictly between the King and the Duke.” None of them say anything as the man shuts the carriage door and returns to his post. They all sit in silence, though all are thinking the same thing.

Arranged marriage.

Knowing their parents, particularly their father, there couldn’t be any other reason for the Duke and Duchess to be here. In Arendelle. With their son. All three are now at the age to marry and would soon reach the perfect time to bear children. Yet, to the confusion and slight annoyance of their parents, none of them have showed any interest in finding a husband.

“So~” Ingrid draws out, patting her lap, “which one of you do you think will be betrothed?”

“Helga,” Iduna says immediately, “They wouldn’t send for someone’s son for me. I’m literally the spare in this family. I’m an afterthought.”

“I’m definitely out of the question. They’re probably worried I’d freeze my husband to death.” Ingrid jokes. Iduna leans onto Ingrid’s shoulder, giving her a little bit of comfort. Helga huffs, crossing her arms and pouting like a child.

“But I don’t want to get married! Not yet anyway. I’ve told Father that numerous times!”

“As if he would listen,” Iduna says dismissively, “he doesn’t care about what we want clearly. Neither does mother. If it will cement relations or make the country look better, they’ll do it.”

“Well, can you two be there when we receive them? It will make it somewhat bearable. I think if I’m alone with our parents the Duke and Duchess might witness a murder.”

“If they allow me to be present then yes.” Ingrid answers.

“I will as well, however I must…must be somewhere before I go back inside the castle.” Iduna says.

“Where must you go?” Helga asks, cocking her head to the side. Iduna plays with a strand of hair, trying to calm her nerves…and embarrassment.

“Asarja’s grave. I…I always go there if I’ve been away from Arendelle. He always loved it when I would tell him about the different lands we would visit. I still tell him about them…even if he can’t uh…react or…or say anything.”

“Una, you don’t have to be embarrassed about visiting his grave.” Ingrid reassures, squeezing her hand. Iduna looks to her sister.

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Iduna. Your love for him runs so deeply, just like how his love ran so deeply for you. You’re grieving; grieving and moving on takes time. He was the first person you ever truly, wholly loved. Besides us. He’s also the father of your child, who you also lost. If Asarja can still comfort you even after death, why would we think it weird that you visit him?” Ingrid says. Iduna smiles sadly. Ingrid always knows what to say. She’s probably the wisest person Iduna knows.

She hugs her sister’s arm, saying a silent thank you. She needed to hear those words, to be reassured that what she was doing okay, that it wasn’t obsessive. She knows that someday she will be able to move on, that she’ll be able to think of him and not feel her grief pull her down.

But she doesn’t know exactly when that day will be.

* * *

Iduna inhales deeply, allowing herself to be calmed by the clear summer air and the smell of the evergreen trees. She carries on down the beaten path absentmindedly, finally feeling at peace. Asarja has always brought Iduna a sense of peace, dead or alive. He was a much-needed contrast from the toxic disorder that went on within the castle. 

Asarja always managed to distract Iduna in the best ways. He would take her to his favourite spots up on the Eastern Fjord and as the aurora borealis shimmered and danced in the sky. He would take her down to the Kulta Meadows where rows of sunflowers swayed in the wind, the taller ones shielding them from the world as they kissed.

She sounds like an immature teenaged girl, but she loved his kisses. They always made everything around her stop and her brain fuzzy. Those sweet little pecks he would give her on her cheeks made her heart melt and her body fill with warmth. Asarja made her feel wanted and loved and li-

Iduna stops in her tracks.

She watches, not making a move or sound. She watches the person, a young man, carefully as he searches around Asarja’s resting place. Luckily, he seems to be more interested in the plants than Asarja’s grave, his nose almost touching the leaf of a piece of jade vine as he studies it with his eyes. As he shuffles to the side to study another plant, Iduna squints her eyes, trying to get a better view of his side profile.

For one he has strawberry blonde hair, long enough to be tied back into a small ponytail. His jaw is slightly chiselled, despite his seemingly lanky frame, void of muscle. Iduna, however, can’t look away from his eyes, a vibrant green, much like the glass that basks her in a green light when sun shines through the stain glass of the castle chapel. They pop out against his warm ivory skin, adding to his handsomeness alongside those faint freckles that slightly pop out from the-

_Handsome?_

A wave of cold travels through Iduna’s body. He isn’t handsome. He isn’t attractive, either. He’s interrupted her peace, he’s disturbed Asarja. Their little haven, one they can share as they live on different sides of mortality, has been disturbed and intruded upon.

“Who are you and why are here?” She asks demandingly, her blood boiling and bubbling beneath her skin. He isn’t allowed to be here. No one is, apart from Asarja’s family and her. The young man startles, immediately standing upright. He takes a step back looking her up and down in horror.

“I asked you a question. Answer it!” She shouts, beginning to stride towards him.

“I-I do apologise,” he stutters, “I had no idea this is private property.” He says, bowing slightly.

“Private pro- this is a _gravesite._ You’ve trespassed onto someone’s resting place!” She seethes, shoving him so hard that she herself almost topples over. He stumbles and trips over an uprooted tree root, falling right on his ass. Their eyes meet, his shimmering with fear, hers ignited with a fiery anger.

“I-I had no idea. I only just arrived today. To Arendelle~” He tries to explain but Iduna steps forward.

“I don’t care whether you’re from the moon. You _do not_ come here again. If I see you or anyone tied to you near here again, I will make sure that the only thing you’ll be observing is your noose, swaying in the wind.” Iduna growls, turning away.

“I’m…I’m so so-”

“I SAID LEAVE! NOW!” Iduna screams, the sound piercing through the canopy and scaring away a flock of birds. The young man scrambles to his feet, but Iduna doesn’t even look at him as he flees, she only smirks as the crunch of dead, dried vegetation grows farther and farther away. The princess wastes no time making her way to the gravestone, hid beneath the branches of the willow tree. She lays her shaky hand on the cool stone.

“I know how much you love this tree, but we may have to cut the branches soon.” Iduna says, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I’m sorry that man was here. I have no idea where he’s come from. Apparently, he just arrived in Arendelle today.” She explains to the stone, laying down.

“But enough of him. We won’t see him ever again, I scared him off,” she says proudly. She begins to twirl a blade of grass around her finger. “I know I was gone for a few days, but I hope what I’m about to tell you will help you forgive me.” She feels a sudden spot of warmth grow on her back, causing her to smile. “I knew you would.” She chuckles.

“I saw our daughter. In Misthaven,” She begins, “And she was so beautiful. She looks so much like you, my love. She had those gorgeous dark brown eyes like yours, a pretty button nose like yours, although yours made you look so handsome. And her hair, those amazing coils you had she now has. Although they are my hair colour which I find odd. Helga had said on the voyage to return home to paint a portrait of her. I want to but…well, I told you about what my father was like. The minute he’d find it he would have it burned, just like…you know.” Iduna finishes, that familiar weight sitting uncomfortably on her chest. Blinking, she slowly sits up, sighing.

“I’ll tell you about what we did tomorrow, my love. Unfortunately, there are guests staying with us and I must be there. I have a feeling my father is going to marry one of us off, but I promise I’ll do my best to get out of it if he wishes to marry _me_ off. Even if I ever do fall in love, I will never get married. Not when you and I never had the chance to, and certainly not when we couldn’t even raise our child together.” She murmurs, getting onto her knees. The princess shuffles forward and kisses the stone, much like she did whenever she left.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, or possibly tonight if I can sneak out.” Iduna finally gets to her feet, brushing the dirt off her skirt. Her eyes wander to the gravestone, and she looks to it with longing. Like all the times before, Asarja’s parting phrase rings in her ear, sounding like a whisper, as if he stands behind her.

“My love for you is as strong as spider silk and as constant as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.”

And though it pains her to leave, she turns without a word and walks back to the castle, one single tear rolling down her cheek.


	8. Reflection and Forgiveness

“You’ve been here two fucking seconds and you already made someone hate you.” Agnarr mumbles to himself, drying his hair with a towel. He’d honestly never seen someone so angry before apart from himself. She had every right to be angry, though. He trespassed into a space where he clearly wasn’t wanted. A space where that girl and whoever passed on could somehow still be together. He knew exactly what it was like for someone enter such a sacred space such as that, how angering it felt.

Which made him feel so guilty.

He has four hours until the ‘introductory dinner’. _Introductory dinner my ass_. As he moves into the bedroom, he can’t help the feeling of anger wash over him at the thought. This wasn’t some dinner where he would get to _know_ the princesses. This was a dinner for his father to pick which princess he marries.

Since he turned sixteen, all his father cared about was marrying him off. Uxtan, his duchy, was small and quite forgettable. It sat on the tip of the Eastern Isle, the biggest island of the Compass Islands, but was rarely ever visited, rarely ever talked about. Runeard, his father, wanted him to marry a girl of royalty, to put their duchy on the map, get trade deals and people to visit, perhaps settle, bring more wealth for Uxtan.

Well, wealth for Runeard and his horrid second wife, Rita, to spend on themselves.

Agnarr pushes the two out of his mind as he begins rummaging through his trunk. The young duke had a passion for metalwork and had found ways to complete small projects without Runeard or Rita knowing. After sorting through an endless amount of clothes, he finally finds the box he had been looking for. He sets the long, rectangular box on the desk in the far corner of the room, pulling out a long strip of sterling silver and a velvet pouch of jewels and pearls.

He decides to make the girl, if he ever saw her again, a ring. Considering he has little time, it will be quite simple. He grabs the candle from the bedside table, lights it and grabs a pair of pliers from the box. He begins to melt the sterling silver shaping it into a ring.

And finally, he is at peace.

The concentration of perfecting his craft allows him to escape reality, _his_ reality. Most people would accuse him of being an ungrateful brat if they heard how much he complains about the life he lives. He understands that perspective, but they’d do the same having Runeard and Rita as ‘parents’. He doesn’t even consider Rita his mother, let alone his other parent. Hell, he rarely ever addresses Runeard as his father.

The only true parent he’s ever had is dead. His _real_ mother, Elsa. Though she died when he was ten, those bright, warm memories of her are remembered like they happened yesterday. They’re what gets him through every day he spends with his father and stepmother.

With ease and skill, he bends the sterling silver into a perfect circle, creating a simple ring. He rushes to the vase of orange crocuses on the oak table in the centre of the room and dumps the flowers out. He then brings the vase over and drops the ring in, allowing it to harden. He turns to the velvet pouch and begins to dig through the jewels and pearls to decide what to add.

After picking through for a few moments, he decided on two medium sized blue pearls he had found on the shores of the Western Isles and a small white daffodil, its petals made of white star sapphire. He smiles a reminiscent smile as he twists the daffodil between his fingers. His mother loved flowers. In fact, she had kept a large greenhouse in the small rose garden of their summer house, of course, which was now destroyed on his father’s orders.

Anything to do with his mother was destroyed.

“I do wish you were here, Mother,” he whispers into the empty room, that familiar wash of sadness at the thought of her greeting him, “I wish you could help me.”

The young duke swallows his tears as he continues his gift for the beautiful stranger he met in the forest.

~

“Now remember. Your first impression matters, and I mean _really_ matters here.” his father drills. Agnarr stands by the closed door, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “That means no going on about your weird hobbies like playing with metal and sniffing flowers.”

“You mean metalwork which is a real profession, and botany, again a real profession?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No. I don’t.” Agnarr bites back, losing the reign on his own frustration. His father eyes him in the mirror.

“Agnarr-”

“Father, I know you want me to marry well, but how can I if neither you do not allow me to be myself? Every single woman I’ve met nearly falls asleep as I recount all the books I read, and classes I take. They don’t _care_ about that type of thing. Not anymore.” His father continues to ready himself, not saying a word.

One of the biggest things Agnarr loathes about his father. His inability to have conversations unless they’re about him and what he wants, or when someone is agreeing with his ideas. Anything else he either ignores you or shuts up until the conversation somehow veers back to him. His vanity makes Agnarr want to scream. In the man’s face.

“Make sure you address Rita as your mother during the dinner.”

“Why should I call that bitch my mother?” Agnarr spits, before turning on his heel to exit the room.

“Watch yourself, boy.” Runeard snarls, turning to glare at his son.

“As if you would beat me in front of the King and Queen.” The young duke retorts lowly, not looking back at his father.

No one words are exchanged as Agnarr leaves the room.

~

_You have_ got _to be fucking joking,_ Agnarr groans in his head.

Though on the outside he seems perfectly confident, he absolutely wants to die on the inside. When he saw those long wavy tresses of auburn hair, he thought it could simply be a woman with the same hair colour. When he heard her whisper to the woman with dirty blonde hair beside her and saw that silhouette and one of those gorgeous hazel eyes, he hoped, _prayed_ that it was just a woman who looked similar.

But then he rounded the table to greet Queen Sonja and he glanced over and recognised that deep, disappointed frown.

And of course, the girl he upset is a daughter of the king. Great. _Fucking great._

“And these are my daughters,” King Harold introduces, he gestures to the tallest one, sitting next to him on his left. Platinum blonde hair eyes an electrifying icy blue, and pale. Extremely pale. Like she hardly saw the sun. “Ingrid.” She curtseys slightly, her thin lips pulled into a tight smile. He then gestures to his…friend from the forest. Looking at her now, properly, he realises just how beautiful she is. Those hazel eyes, her long auburn hair, her delicate, upturned nose, smooth, tawny beige skin. She curtseys, well, kind of bends slightly, not a true curtsey.

Which he deserves.

“And this is Helga. My heir.” Agnarr turns to the Helga, the Crown Princess, the first crown princess he’s met. Blonde like Ingrid, though it is not as dazzling, her eyes a muted blue, reminding him of the metal used to make guns. She smiles a wide smile, curtseying. Agnarr bows deeply.

“Your highnesses. It is an honour to make your acquaintance.” He says, before sitting on the right of his father.

A group of servants come in with bowls of soup, a starter he guesses. As it’s placed in front of him, the king suddenly asks, “So Agnarr. Tell us what you have been studying in preparation for taking over your father’s position.”

_And here we go._

“Well, I’ve been learning a lot about trade agreements and making royal decrees. I’ve also been learning the tongues of other lands such as Misthaven, Agrabah, Arendelle and others. However, I think the most important thing I’ve done is go out to the people of Uxtan, ask them what it is _they want._ You’ll find that any land, whether it be a duchy or a kingdom, prospers more when a ruler listens to their people.”

“Indeed, indee- Helga! Iduna!” Harold snaps sharply. The two girls startle apart, sitting up straight.

“We have guests here. They’ve travelled far and have not come here to witness two adult princesses gossip and giggle like children. Besides, Helga, you should take notes of what Agnarr says, he seems to be quite knowledgeable like your sister. Perhaps you would like to share with us what it was you were discussing.”

The two glance at each other, then to Agnarr. Him and Iduna meet eyes, but she swiftly looks away. The pair were talking about something private, if he could be money, probably about the… _encounter_ Iduna and him had earlier. Agnarr clears his throat.

“You Majesty, I must say your gardens are magnificent, I’ve not seen such well-kept gardnes in my life!” He says, looking to Queen.

“Why thank you, Agnarr. Though I must say I am a little disappointed in my Dahlias. I think something may be wrong with them. The soil, maybe where they’re placed. I’m not sure, but they haven’t bloomed.”

“Perhaps I could take a look,” Agnarr suggests, “I’m interested in botany. Maybe I could resolve the problem for you before I return to Uxtan.” Queen Sonja smiles.

“Why Agnarr that would be wonderful! Thank you! Perhaps the day after tomorrow you could look at them.”

“I’d be happy to.” He smiles. As he begins on his soup, he can feel someone’s stare bore into the crown of his head. He glances up and for the second time that evening, hazel eyes meet his. ‘Thank you’ she mouths, smiling softly before returning to her own starter. He smirks before returning to his soup.

_You’ve caught my attention, your highness._

~

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Agnarr looks up from his book, his nose scrunched. _Who on earth could that be?_ He wonders, slightly disappointed to be disturbed from his reading.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

“A-Agnarr? It’s me…Iduna.” The voice whispers through the door. The young duke quickly discards his book and hops of the bed, rushing to the door. He feels the inside of his pocket, relieved that the ring is still in there. He rolls his shoulders, relaxing his body, before cracking the door open. He sees Iduna standing there, still in her dress from the dinner, though she looks anywhere but him. Agnarr opens the door more.

“Your highness. Is everything alright?” He asks. She clears her throat, shifting from foot to foot. The silence between them is awkward, but not unbearable. He cocks his head to the side. “Y-Your highness?”

“I’m sorry!” she blurts out, causing Agnarr to retract slightly. He purses his lips.

“I beg your pardon?” She sighs, wringing her hands.

“I’m sorry. For…for yelling at you earlier today. It was very rude of me to do so. I was just…angry that someone found his gravesite. I made sure it was somewhere close to the castle but also where no-one else c-could find it.” She explains, still not being able to meet his eyes. Agnarr smiles lightly.

“I appreciate your apology your highness, but it is me who should apologise,” he fishes the ring out of his pocket. He holds it out to her, and he feels a swell of pride as he watches Iduna marvel at it, her eyes roaming all over the sterling-silver piece of jewellery.

“A-Agnarr this is beautiful! Wherever did you find something like this?” She asks with awe.

“I made it.” And their eyes meet for a third time that day. Rather then those beautiful eyes being ignited with anger or clouded with disappointed, there’s a sparkle in them. A sparkle he would love to see in them again.

“Y-You made this. It’s…It’s exquisite! I didn’t know you make jewellery.” Agnarr shrugs, not wanting to waste anymore time.

“I am sorry…about earlier,” he apologises sincerely, “I had no idea that was a gravesite of someone you care about. If I had known I would have left.” The princess nods, a shy side-smile on her lips. Agnarr takes a deep breath, not really believing he’s about to pour a bit of his heart out to a princess he _just met._

“When I was ten, my mother passed away. The only person I ever truly loved. I was heartbroken, in some ways I still am. The pain of losing someone you love so much is…is overwhelming at times. The grief just takes over you, it weighs you down. Especially when only a few people around you genuinely care about you and how you’re coping.

“Anyways. She had a greenhouse that her and I always tended to together at our summer home. After her death, it was destroyed. That one final place where I could go to remember her, the one place that was just for her and I was now gone, a heap on the floor. And I was angry. Furious. Angry that someone had found and destroyed it, the one place where we could somewhat be together, me living, her living in spirit.” Agnarr swallows thickly, making sure that lump stays down. He refuses to cry in from of the princess. He smiles a pained smile.

“I recognised that grief fuelled anger in you. But the fact that _I_ caused someone to feel that way, despite knowing what it’s like made me feel incredibly guilty. So, I made you this ring. It’s made of sterling silver.”

“And what of these?” she asks pointing to the blue pearls and daffodil.

“Well, I picked those especially with their meanings in mind. The blue pearls here, they symbolise courage and strength. I wanted you to know that I wish you all the strength and courage to be able to move on and get through this grief. It may take time, but something tells me you’ll be able to wake up one day and not feel that crushing sadness. This daffodil represents forgiveness. I’m not forcing you to, but I’m hoping we can move past this before I return to Uxtan. Forgiveness would be the icing on the cake.” He finishes, causing Iduna to giggle.

They settle into another bout of silence, though this one is much warmer, less awkward. Suddenly remembering what brought them to this moment, Agnarr says, “I hope I didn’t cross a boundary or anything. I just wanted to-”

“Nonsense! I am just so…shocked. This is…no one has done something this sweet for me since…since _he_ was alive.” She looks from the ring to him. Her smile is no longer shy and small, it is big and glowing. Her smooth, warm hand suddenly clasps his, and he fights the urge to flinch.

“Thank you, Agnarr. This is one of the most beautiful, most heartfelt things I’ve ever received. The fact that you made this for me. Though you shouldn’t apologise, you are forgiven. Thank you, again this ring is so beautiful and I~” she trails off her sentence, lost for words. Agnarr leans against the doorframe, a lazy smile on his face. He continues to watch her twist the ring in her hands,

Trying his hardest to fight the urge to grab her hand back and hold it in his again, just for a few more moments.


	9. Reminders of the Past

Iduna hops down from her horse, inhaling deeply. She takes in the scent of the damp forest, allowing it to cleanse her lungs, to cleanse her mind. She gives her horse a stroke before making her way to Asarja. “I hope you rested well last night. I know how much you love the sound of the rain.” She says, patting the stone. “I brought North-Star today. I loved how she immediately trusted you. I suppose you had that way with people. But after my visit, I’m going on a ride. To anywhere. Within reason of course. I just need to…think.”

Her mind immediately casts back to last night. When Agnarr gave her the ring. The one she is currently twisting around her finger. How sincere and open he had been with her. How kind and thoughtful he had been. About how Agnarr was Agnarr. A rare find in the glittering world she lived in. She looks to the gravestone. “The Duke’s son gave me a ring. As a gift, for making me upset last night. To be clear, he didn’t mean anything by it, as in…it wasn’t because he’s courting me or anything. He felt guilty. For yesterday. Anyways,” Iduna rambles.

She sighs, now playing with the bracelet Asarja had made her. Why is she suddenly so flustered? Had he been alive, Asarja wouldn’t have cared if she had a male friend. He was the least jealous of the two. And it wasn’t like she had feelings for him. Sure, he’d done something thoughtful, but Agnarr himself expressed worry for crossing boundaries, so he obviously didn’t mean it _like that._

“I don’t want you to think I’m moving on from you. I’m not, I…I don’t think I ever will,” she says with uncertainty, “Or if I do, I am simply not ready yet. I know how long you’ve been gone but I just…can’t not yet. Not when the pain of losing you is still so raw. When the grief is just still so overpowering.” She admits, her voice breaking.

She looks up to canopy of trees, not wanting any tears to fall. Crying. Again. No matter what it as about Asarja, a happy memory, a sad memory, eating the chocolate he loved, she always ends up crying. All Asarja brings her now are tears. And though she still adores him, she can’t help but feel angry at him. He didn’t make her feel like this before. He didn’t make her feel weighed down and sad and disconnected from everything. He made her feel loved and protected and listened to at one point.

But that point felt like years ago. Until last night.

Agnarr didn’t make her feel loved or protected but listened to and _understood._ She must admit even Asarja didn’t make her feel understood. His family were some of the kindest people Iduna had met. Despite the ongoing conflict between the Northuldra and the Arendellians, they still welcomed her. No matter her differences. The opposite of her family, specifically her parents. They made her give her own daughter away because they couldn’t handle her differences.

Which reminds her…

“I haven’t spoken to your family since…since the funeral. I remember I couldn’t even look your mother in the eyes.” She says, gazing ahead into the thicket of wild forest. “I haven’t even tried to contact them. How could I? I am the reason you’re dead after all.” She laments, balling her hands into fists and guilt stabs at her stomach.

A thought constantly invading her mind. How she, in a way, is responsible for Asarja’s death. She got involved with him, tangled him up in her father’s web. A web no-one, no matter how cunning, can get out of.

She turns and walks to North-Star who happily grazes on the grass. “I’m going to try something,” she says, “something I should have done a long time ago.” She opens the saddle bag and pulls out the letter. Her stomach twists at the name on the envelope. _Amena._ Asarja’s mother. That woman treated her more like a daughter than her own mother.

She remembers Asarja’s funeral. How Amena stood there, upright, shoulders back, a small smile of pride on her lips as Asarja’s accomplishments were read. How when she talked about her own son, her voice never wavered, her words never faded. How strong she was. How much of a leader she was.

Amena. Such a wonderful woman.

“I do hope she answers. I haven’t called to our friend since you passed.” With a deep breath, Iduna moves to the middle of the small clearing, clasping the letter in her hands. Again, she looks up to the treetops, looking around.

And the princess whistles. A calm, low tone and then it suddenly grows shrill and slightly wild. 4 notes. Beckoning, calling out to her.

The surrounding forest suddenly grows silent and still, not a single bird singing, or squirrel or rabbit rustling amongst the grass or tree branches. Just silence. Iduna makes a sound of questioning, cocking her head to the side. Perhaps it didn’t work, or perhaps she didn’t want to see her. Sadness begins to overcome her, but not until a whistle is heard, almost an echo of hers. Iduna gasps.

The Hornbeam and Quaking Aspen trees rustle, some of their leaves being pulled from the branches, swept down on a small gust of wind. They weave in between the hanging branches of the willow tree and in a matter of seconds hover in front of her. To others, this may seem like a phenomenon, but to Iduna this is simply a friend. A close, dearly missed, friend. “H-Hello, Gale,” she hesitates slowly putting a hand out, “Do you remember me? I am Iduna, Una if you recall.”

The leaves continue to simply hover, the wind spirit unmoving. Iduna frowns, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “I suppose you might also be mad at me. I’m sorry I di-” Iduna couldn’t even finish her sentence. Gale whirls around her, under her arms, around her legs, and suddenly shoots up through the canopy, taking Iduna with her. With a yelp Iduna shields herself as she is pulled through the branches. Suddenly feeling the tingling of the sun, Iduna slowly unravels her arms from around her face.

Hazel eyes widen and dart around, breath stolen from her. _It’s beautiful._ She looks around her for miles over the heads of the trees, to the luscious green forest, open fields scattered amongst them. She can see it stretches for miles and if she squints, she can just make out the spiral of the Cathedral of Ellesmere, Arendelle’s second largest town. To her right, the forest thins out and opens into sprawling fields, some full of different farm animals grazing, others with people the size of ants soaking up the summer sun.

She can see Arendelle. Her own beautiful country.

She sighs dreamily before saying, “Alright, Gale. Thank you for this wonderful little trip, but if you could please return me to the gr-OUND!” Iduna chokes on her words as Gale rushes downwards, her stomach dropping. Again, she is pulled through the branches of the trees, through the canopy, but this time, Gale drops here, somewhat softly, onto the ground. “Thank you. I think.” Iduna comments, getting to her feet as she brushes herself off.

Finally reorganised, she looks to the wind spirit. “I missed you, Gale,” she coos sincerely, “I truly did.” Gale in response, blows towards her, carefully shimmying up her front. Iduna wraps her arms around nothing it seems like, but she feels Gale’s presence. She feels the spirit’s love. “I don’t mean to cut our reunion short, but I have something to ask of you.” Gale loops around the air in response.

“I have a letter here. A letter for Amena. I have not been the best at keeping in contact with Asarja’s family. But-But I feel like I must contact her. Can you please give this to her?” The wind spirit wastes no time whipping the letter up into her grasp. Iduna smiles. “I hope to see you again, Gale.”

And she watches as the small gust flies up through the canopy, her letter in tow.

* * *

“I don’t know what to do, Northie.” Iduna huffs to her horse. North-Star turns her head, those deep eyes meeting Iduna’s, almost as if she questions her.

“How does one move on? From a situation like mine? How do they know when is the right time or _how?_ How do...I love Asarja with everything I have. He took a piece of my heart with him when he died, a piece I can assure you will never be replaced. But it’s been three years since he passed. He’s never coming back, I know that. But I almost feel like…by moving on I’m betraying him in some way.” She finishes, spilling her thoughts to her horse.

Iduna knows that in way that is such a stupid reason. Betraying? A dead man? What will he do, rise from the grave and beat a man’s ass? Iduna is free to fall in love with another man, to have a life with him, a family. But at the same time, she feels like just doing that is betraying Asarja and his wish. _Their wish._ A dream to live far away from the capital and the forest, possibly Ellesmere or Xanhus. To live in a house, with a garden and a view out to the sprawling countryside. 3-5 children, two dogs and horses. That was their dream. A dream they wanted to make come true.

But with Asarja dead and their only child together being raised by other people, their dream, to her, is destroyed, nothing more than wishful thinking. And if she married or fell in love again, that dream would be nothing but a distant memory. She tightens her grip on the reigns as realisation sets in.

She doesn’t want to move on because she fears losing her connection to the past. To Asarja.

“This is too complex of a thought.” She murmurs to herself, rubbing her temple.

“What’s too complex of a thought?”

Iduna shrieks as her heartrate skyrockets. Her shriek startles North-Star who whinny’s as she jumps abruptly to the side before getting on her hind legs. Iduna hugs herself against the mare, holding tightly so she doesn’t fall to the ground.

“Easy, Northie, easy!” She calms, rubbing her neck, “Easy, baby.” North-Star huffs as she jumps again and turns. Iduna now has her eyes on the man who spooked her horse, and rolls her eyes, recognising those bright green eyes.

“Agnarr! I thought you _weren’t_ an idiot!” she exasperates, looking at him with disbelief. Agnarr gives a bashful smile.

“Uh Sorry. Again.” He says simply. Iduna just nods. “Wait, why are you out here?”

“Well, technically these are my family lands. From the castle to the boarder of the next town over. I also like to ride with North-Star here when I need to think.” Iduna then scrunches her face. “I could ask the same of you. Why would the Duke of Uxtan be alone out here? We’re about 15 miles from the castle.”

“First, I’m not the Duke. My father is. I’m the _hereditary_ duke. Second, I’m out here exploring, investigation the different plants.”

“Well for simplicity, I’ll refer to you as the duke,” Iduna shrugs, “but I do remember you said you liked botany. Did you get that from your mother?” she asks attentively, not wanting to upset him. From what she gathered last night, his mother is still a sensitive subject, much like how Asarja is a sensitive subject for her. He smiles sadly, glancing at her.

“Yes. I did. It was her escape. From…from a life she didn’t want. It soon became mine as well.” Iduna cocks her head in contemplation.

“Asarja was my escape. He would take me to these places, teach me things about Arendelle I never even knew. He was my haven.” The pair fall into a silence. Though compared to the ones last night, there wasn’t a hint of awkwardness, it seems to have disappeared. Overnight. She glances at Agnarr, who stares blankly into the surrounding land. His frown is deep, his eyes slightly narrowed.

“Do you want to ride with me?” She suddenly asks. He looks up to her with a blink.

“But…but there’s only one horse.”

“So? Sit behind me. I promise I don’t bite.” She winks.

And she holds in a giggle as Agnarr’s cheeks turn slightly red.

* * *

The pair had been riding for ten minutes before Agnarr finally asks, “So, you looked a little…conflicted before? When you muttered ‘this is too complex of a thought’.” Iduna scoffs as he impersonates her, the worst impersonation she’d heard.

“I hope you pray to God every night thanking him for not making you an actor. You’d be living on the streets.” She jokes, causing Agnarr to nudge her playfully. Her features harden quickly. She licks her lips, glancing to the man who sits behind her. “I need help with answering something.” Agnarr nods, telling her to continue. “Please do not answer if this is too difficult, but…how did you know that it was time to I guess move on from your mother’s death?” She asks quietly.

Agnarr sighs, shuffling in his spot. Iduna makes a sullen face, grabbing Agnarr’s hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s okay.” he reassures, squeezing her hand gently. Iduna glances up at him shyly. She discreetly rubs her stomach, trying to supress the tingly feeling that suddenly appeared. He looks away, that lazy smile on his lips gone.

“Unfortunately, you don’t really ‘ _move on’_ from losing someone you love. The pain and the longing for that person lessen. Perhaps, one may even find a way to help cope with the loss, but they will _always_ be in your mind. You can never erase those memories of them. There are days when I’m suddenly remembering my mother, something…triggers the memory. And those feelings of longing for her, of missing her, intensify. A lot of the time, I distract myself. With metalwork or helping my father run the duchy. But other times, I simply allow the feelings to take over.”

Sometimes I will just sit in her old study, reflecting on the times we spent together, just celebrating the light she gave. Though it’s slightly embarrassing to admit, sometimes I do cry about it, I just let it all out. A catharsis. I also do activities she liked such as gardening. It makes me feel connected to her somehow. But in short, you don’t really move on, you just learn how to cope with the loss.”

Iduna looks down, disappointed with his answer, but also coming to an understanding. “But don’t you ever worry that one day, when you’re older, you’ll forget her? That perhaps those memories will fade?” Agnarr shakes his head, his lips pursed.

“I do not. Do you?”

“Yes. Constantly. Asarja and I were in each other’s lives for two years. That might not be a long time, but in those two years, I felt free. I felt understood, I felt loved. Asarja gave me so much happiness and-and joy. I knew then, that, had he lived, he would have been the perfect man for me. We would have been together until our dying days.”

“In a way you were.”

“I suppose. But he wasn’t meant to die so soon. Just…trust me he wasn’t.”

“But…but don’t want to have a family? Fall in love?” Iduna squirms in the saddle.

“Deep down I do. I truly do. But…I feel like I’m betraying Asarja,” she admits, and it feels so good to admit it to a real person, to take some of the weight off her chest. “I feel like if I fall in love with another man, have children with him, then I’m turning my back on him. That I’ll forget him and all we had with each other. I don’t want to; I _cannot_ forget him.” She let’s out.

Agnarr doesn’t say anything. He continues to rub his thumb over her hand in comforting circles. And then he leans over, the warmth of his hand spreading over her cheek. Their eyes lock, hers dull with grief, his bright with kindness and reassurance. His thumb swipes across her cheek, wiping the tear away. She lets out a soft gasp and grips his hand tighter, her cheek tingling.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. Iduna nods, her mouth suddenly going dry, her body full of nerves.

“Y-Yes.” She answers, stuttering.

“You won’t forget Asarja. Your heart and mind won’t allow that. That piece of your heart that he took won’t. Don’t feel like you must put him behind you to fall in love. You can still celebrate him. You can still love him. But you can also open your heart to someone else, you can love someone else and celebrate them. I promise.”

Without speaking a word, Iduna intertwines their fingers, giving his hand a squeeze. She smiles thankfully, her eyes never breaking their gaze with his. And as the minutes blend, time seems to slow, almost halting around her, as she gets lost in those brilliant green eyes.

Those beautiful and brilliant green eyes.


	10. Revelation

“What is this?”

Amena snaps her head up as her second in command, Máijá, walks into the Main Tent. She glances back to the letter she keeps re-reading, the words just spinning around in her head. “That letter must be important. It’s rare that you are speechless.” The leader says nothing. Her eyes move from one word to the next, the princess’ voice echoing in her ears. The crunch of paper begins to sound in the tent. It crumbles as Amena’s hands grip the letter tighter. She takes a double breath. “Amena?”

“Iduna.” Is all she says, lifting the letter up. Máijá swiftly moves to the front of the redwood desk, snatching the paper from her leader’s hand.

_“_ What? _”_ she gasps, now reading the letter herself. Amena slowly stands, still leaning on her desk.

“She-She wishes to see me.” Máijá pulls her head back, eyebrows raised.

“Do you think she want to discuss…” There’s a beat as the other woman considers her words, “you know…her daughter’s bloodline?” Amena shakes her head with a frown.

“Why would she discuss something she doesn’t know? Asarja didn’t tell her about his lineage. She has no idea.” The second in command scrunches her face.

“But I thought he-”

“Oh please,” Amena snaps, “Why would he tell her? That girl would probably be scared out of her wits! Imagine telling the girl you love that your unborn child will grow and become… _powerful._ That she may be put in harm’s way.”

“Well, we still are not sure if Mikko’s proclamation is about her,” Máijá reassures, “The scroll, if it even still exists, has not been found. We can still rest easy. Somewhat.” causing Amena to roll her eyes.

“Rest easy - do you _hear_ yourself? I cannot ‘rest easy’ not knowing whether or not my granddaughter is destined to…to-” Amena stops, not wanting to get worked up. She takes a breath before turning back to Máijá. “What if we find it and we figure out it is Seita-Astrid? Then what do we tell her mother? How do we tell her that her daughter may _die?_ I don’t know about you, but I certainly would not want to be told that about my child.” Máijá sets the letter back down, chewing her lip nervously. She slowly makes her way over, her hand resting on the top cross-guard of her dagger.

“Are you… going to tell her?” She asks. Amena sighs harshly, shrugging.

“I don’t know. I want to tell her, considering my son didn’t have the balls to. But the child isn’t with her. If what the sentries have told me is true, she still heavily mourns her, Asarja too. Imagine me telling her that her child will be put into harm’s way, that the harm she’ll be put in has a high chance her being seriously injured or-or dying? She might not ever come back from that.” Amena says seriously, eyeing the younger woman.

Amena may have lost a son, but Iduna lost a fiancé _and_ a daughter. The elder could see it written on the teenager’s face at Asarja’s funeral. She blames herself. She blames herself for her _father’s_ actions. She blames herself for Asarja’s death, for having to give up her daughter. One thing that Amena regrets the most, is not chasing after her that afternoon. After laying Asarja to rest. As her people, who preach kindness, forgiveness, spirituality, talked viciously about the girl who they believed killed her son, the girl her son loved with everything he had.

She let them and let that girl believe she felt the same. 

“We go tonight,” she starts lowly, “You and I travel to the barrier. I must see her.”

“Are you serious? Amena the barrier-”

“I’m not letting her in. I’m going out. Of the barrier. I _will_ see her. I owe this to her, and most importantly I owe this to Asarja.” She insists staring Máijá down. The second-hand rubs a calloused hand over her face and begins to pace. Amena ignores her as she begins to walk out of the tent.

“Amena can’t we think about this? What if this is a-a trap! Or what if she brings someone else with her?”

“You think Iduna would do that? Really?” Amena deadpans, causing Máijá to stop mid-pace, features hardening.

“She killed your son.” She growls. In an instant, Amena is in her face, loose tunic gathered in her fist. Her eyes bore into Máijá’s.

“She did no such thing.”

“If Asarja hadn’t fallen in love with her, I can guarantee you your son would be with us, perhaps in this very tent with us right now.”

“And if they hadn’t fallen in love, my son would be here in this tent, miserable and angry at the life the gods chose for him.” She spits back, shoving Máijá back. “She is innocent of her father’s crimes. She tried to keep their relationship secret, until she knew it was safe. All she ever cared about was making sure Asarja was safe. Asarja himself _knew_ how dangerous it was to love her, but he didn’t care. He only cared about loving her, giving her a place where she could be herself.” Amena argues.

The pair fall silent, but only for a moment. Amena rolls her shoulders before turning her back on Máijá. “Go and inform the sentries of what will be happening tonight. We don’t want them firing arrows at their leader now, do we?” Without a word, Máijá leaves the Main Tent, leaving the Head Elder alone with the suffocating tension swirling around her.

Her eyes, like they have minds of their own, drift back to that letter, discarded atop of her desk. Her hand makes it way to the small vial that hangs around her neck.

She owes it to Asarja. She owes it to Iduna.

She owes it to herself.

* * *

Iduna breathes a short breath as she slows North-Star. Though she hadn’t visited in three years, she still knew the way like the back of her hand. She comes to a clearing, or, what _seems_ to be a clearing. Light green grass spotted with daisies. On either side of her, two paths lead around the towering shrubs spotted with red and orange berries. Around the forest. The Særlige Forest. She looks to the shrubs. An illusion to an unknowing eye. The memory of when she first walked through those shrubs resurfaces.

_Hold my hand tightly now._ That’s what Asarja had whispered to her all those nights ago. She remembers the feeling of his hands, calloused but somehow smooth and gentle, caressing her own as they walked through together, the magic rippling around them like a hand touching water. She remembers her breath being stolen from her and she marvelled at the forest, at his home. Ethereal, enchanting.

“It seems as though you are lost in thought, my child.”

Iduna blinks, retreating from the memory. Ahead of her, Amena stands, a questioning smile on her face. Iduna doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just…stares. Takes all of it in, takes _her_ in. She looks slightly older, no doubt all the grief catching up to her, but standing under the pale moonlight, she still looked like a goddess of some sort.

Her sepia brown skin seems to glow an angelic, silver glow under the light, and her luscious locks, black as night hang around in her in individuals twists, some with purple cloth woven in between. Her eyes don’t leave Amena’s, those beautiful dark brown eyes so much like her son’s and granddaughter’s. She dismounts North-Star and begins to walk towards her, knees trembling. Not out of fear, but out of awe.

In awe of the Great Head Elder. A Northuldran Queen.

The distance between the two closes. Now, they are less than five feet apart. But Iduna is frozen to her spot. “Child, you can come closer to me. I promise I won’t bite.”

“I know,” Iduna breathes, her voice trembling, “I know. You would never hurt anyone. But I…I hurt you. I hurt everyone who loved Asarja. I don’t want to hurt them again.”

* * *

Amena can’t help the guilt that begins to surge up in her body. Just watching her son’s fiancé, the mother of her granddaughter, begin to fall apart. _I should have run. I should have run after her._ Is all she can think. “You welcomed me into your life, into your home. You taught me how you lived. You didn’t have to. You-you could have shut me out, stopped me from seeing Asarja. But you didn’t. You trusted me and you shouldn’t have.” Amena sighs.

“Because the moment I laid my eye on you, I could tell you knew the truth. You did not believe those stories. I knew I could trust you. Do you not remember how you and Asarja met? You _saved_ him from your own men.” Iduna shrugs, sniffling.

“That was the bare minimum. My people we’ve…we have treated you like filth. For centuries. And for what? I-I myself don’t even know the answer!” Iduna licks her lips, quickly wiping her cheeks. “I did what was right. I did what I had to do. I refused to see an innocent boy get murdered, get _accused._ ” She spits with disgust. The Head Elder glances behind to see Máijá lurking in the shadows, her mouth agape at Iduna’s rant.

She turns back to the princess, who looks to the ground, the tears dripping into the earth beneath them. Amena takes a step forward. “Iduna. Look at me.” She begs. The princess slowly meets her gaze, hazel eyes shimmering under the moon.

“Just after Asarja had been killed and we were preparing him for his journey onto the next world, I remember harbouring so much anger and grief. Grief for my son’s life ending well before it should have and…and anger at you. I remember thinking how I shouldn’t have let you be with my son, that you were not to be trusted. I-I even thought how you should trade your own life for his.” Amena rants. Iduna stands there, listening, taking her words in.

“You were born into a world that has terrorized ours for centuries. A world that has taken advantage of us, that has mocked us. And after Asarja died, I was angry at you, furious. But then the evening before his funeral, I had passed out from exhaustion. From grief. And Asarja came to me. In a dream. And do you know what he told me? He told me ‘Mother. Be mad at those who spit and walk on us, not those who unite with us.’ My own son. Much wiser than I am.” Iduna smiles faintly, but her face once again grows serious.

“But you can be angry with me,” Amena watches as she steps slowly towards her, “Despite how much the Northuldra helped my kingdom, my ancestors, my own father. They gave you nothing in return. They do not treat you as equals. The Arendellians, the ‘true’ Arendellians come first and then the Northuldra second. That has been going on for hundreds of years, Amena. It must be abolished. But until then, I still will benefit it. I am just as guilty as others who come from my world. So yes. You can be mad at me.” Iduna attests. Amena looks at her, stunned. How she is so aware.

“Well, let’s make one thing clear,” Amena speaks, grabbing Iduna’s hands into her own, “I _do not_ and _never will_ blame you for Asarja’s death. That was something completely out of your own control.” Then she leans in to whisper into the young princess’ ear. “You will make great changes in your future. You will aid a powerful being in reuniting us. Not just the Northuldra and the Arendellians. But this whole realm.”

She pulls back slowly and chuckles at the shock Iduna’s face. She squeezes her hands.

“Y-You think so?”

“I know so. I did always get this sense of fight in you.” Iduna looks away bashfully. Amena laughs and brings the girl into her arms. She inhales her scent, that sweet vanilla scent Asarja always swooned about. A scent she secretly missed herself. She smiles as she feels small arms wrap around her waist.

“I missed you.” Iduna murmurs happily.

“I missed you, too, Iduna.” Amena says. And she means it, wholly and truly means it.

She really did miss her Little Robin.

* * *

Iduna hugs Amena once more. “As much as I would love to stay, I must head back to the castle before the guards grow suspicious.” Amena nods seriously, her sturdy hands on Iduna’s shoulders. “Thank you. For meeting me.” She thanks sincerely.

“Child, we are bound together. Through the love we have for my son and the love we have for each other”. Iduna looks away, chewing her bottom lip.

“Iduna? What is it?” Iduna glances up to Amena, her chest warm as concern washes over the older woman’s features. A look hardly anyone ever gives her. Because hardly anyone cares about her. She shakes her head, ridding herself of the thought. She needs to know.

“If…If I ever fall in love again and-and marry. Would you hate me?” She asks hesitantly. Amena doesn’t say anything. Iduna glances up at her, anxiety pulsing through her at the woman’s unamused look.

“Iduna. Why would I be mad at you for falling in love?” Iduna, though relieved, frowns as the question she had toyed with yesterday enters her mind once again.

“B-Because…I wouldn’t be betraying Asarja would I?” She asks. Amena laughs.

“You’re too loyal for your own good, sweetheart.” Iduna cocks her head. The Head Elder rubs her shoulders affectionately. “You wouldn’t be betraying him, Little Robin. In fact, I believe you’d be helping Asarja feel more at peace. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy, Iduna, whether that was with him or not. And that is what I want for you as well. To be happy.” Iduna could almost collapse with relief, knowing that Asarja’s mother and perhaps Asarja himself, wouldn’t feel betrayed.

She hugs Amena once more, promising to visit soon.

And she then mounts North-Star and rides off into the growing night, the happiest she’s felt in almost four years.


	11. I Wish I May, I Wish I Might

Her brown locks whip around her as her horse gallops through the fields, the distance between her and the Palace growing bigger. A big smile grows on her face as she closes her eyes and looks to the sky. Though the sun hides behind the grey and white clouds, its warmth still peaks through them, greeting her skin. The wind that flows around her makes her feel like she’s flying, soaring in the sky, high above the clouds.

Regina Mills wishes for many things. One is that she could fly, fly whenever she needed to escape and be by herself like now. The Palace, her new home, is suffocating, draining all that she had been before out of her body. She’s lived there for almost four months, and almost every day for those four months, she’s been nothing but compared and bullied. By a ten-year-old.

Her grip on the reigns subconsciously tightens as her blood begins to seethe. Snow. King Leopold’s daughter. Her stepdaughter. At first, the horror of marrying Leopold was slightly lessened by the idea of becoming a mother to Snow. Regina had always wanted children and she supposed a lot of her time would be occupied watching over the young girl, helping her to come to terms with the death of her mother. For the first month she lived in the palace, that had been the case. Her and Snow spent almost every day together, she saw the little girl more than her own future husband. They played, they danced, they went on walks. Regina sometimes read to her at night, sometimes comforted her when the loss of her mother weighed on her.

And the second month arrived. The month of hell.

Regina wondered if another girl had taken Snow’s place. Gone was the girl who did everything to make her new mother feel comfortable, who took on her on tours of the palace, who listened with awe as she hung onto every word as Regina talked about the horses in the Royal Stable. At every corner, Snow would compare her to Eva, her late mother. She suddenly did Snow’s hair wrong whenever she did it, somehow it was her fault the cook had ruined her dinner. Their trips to the stable grew unbearably boring, _my mother would never allow me to suffer like this!_

Though she put up a front, as soon as she shut the door to her own chamber, she couldn’t help but fall to her knees, her sobs muffled by the fabric that pooled around her.

“Woah Rocinante.” She says softly, seeing that she’s now reached the edge of Bluebell Wood. She glances over her shoulder, eyes dulling as she sees the Palace still in view. It feels like she can’t escape it, no matter how far she runs or rides. The loneliness, the boredom, the feeling of being unwanted. She can’t escape them, the feelings follow her, cling to her everywhere she goes. And that reminds her of another wish she had.

To rid herself of those feelings once and for all.

* * *

“Remind me where we’re going again?” Agnarr calls out. Iduna glances over her shoulder, only to whip her head back around, eyes focused on the path ahead. August had now arrived in Arendelle, which meant the country was amid the scorching temperatures of late summer. Today in particular was extra humid and sticky, which led to Helga’s idea of visiting Tunnel Cove. Ingrid (surprisingly) and Iduna agreed immediately, wanting to spend the day away from the hot and stuffy castle.

Iduna suggested inviting Agnarr and her sisters enthusiastically agreed, oblivious to the giggles and whispers as the two blondes speculated whether Iduna had engaged in another romance. And after making and packing enough food to feed the Capital and readying their horses, the group found themselves in the present.

Agnarr asking where they were headed. Shirtless. And sweaty.

As if she wasn’t hot enough, the embarrassment and the attraction that’s been bubbling around inside of her make Iduna feel faint. She leans over and grabs the pouch of water swinging with North-Star’s steps, guzzling it down to try and soothe her dry mouth.

“We are off to Tunnel Cove.” Ingrid answers, smirking at her sister. Helga adds, “It’s one of our favourite places, especially during the summer.”

Iduna nods as she gulps down her mouthful of water, before saying breathlessly, “We have been coming here since we were younger.” She glances behind her once again, to see Agnarr staring at her, smiling lazily. She smiles back without thinking, her chest fluttering at the sight. That lazy smile.

The smile she’s loved since that night in the hall.

* * *

“Finally.” Regina breathes, relief flooding her body as the large cottage comes into view. She feels her whole body relax and her features, usually so pinched and tight from stress, slacken as a wave of contentment rolls over her body.

She dismounts Rocinante once the pair stop in front of the gate. She grimaces as she pushes it open, the hinges squeaking and groaning. From the clock in the village square, she knew it was just coming up to two o’clock. Her Little Apple’s naptime. She didn’t wish to disturb her nap or prolong the time it took for her mother to put her down. Regina looks over her shoulder to check on her horse. Happy that he was fine, she carries on up the path, hopping from one slab of orange sandstone to the next, much like she did when she was a little girl.

She makes it to the front door and grabs the door knocker. As softly as she can she knocks her signature knock, to let the occupants of the house know it was only her. She hears the pitter patter of bare feet and a giggle that immediately lights up her face. Just as the door is pulled open, she crouches as low as she can get. A small little face peers around the door, cheeks extra red and eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Hello, Gina.” The little one giggles, panting as she pushes auburn curls out of her face. Regina tries to hide her smile, feigning a serious look.

“Miss. Astrid, do you know what the time is?” She asks, causing Astrid to make a questioning look, tapping a small chubby finger on her chin.

“I dunno. Maybe food time?” Regina narrows her eyes.

“No, I don’t think that’s right.”

The little girl steps away from the door, peering over her. She points to Rocinante, begging, “Can I say hello to Roshi, please?” pouting and making her bottom lip wobble. Without warning, Regina lunges forward and scoops the girl up into her arms, kissing her all over her face. Astrid shrieks with laughter and she wriggles around, trying to avoid the attack.

“You see Seita-Astrid. If you listen and go down for your nap when you are asked, you won’t get attacked so viciously.” A voice jests.

“M-Mama, help!” Seita-Astrid pleads between laughs. Regina looks up to see the girl’s mother, Dahlia, standing on the staircase, arms folded across her chest as she watches the interaction. She smiles at the older brunette.

“Hi, Lia.”

“Hello, Regina.” Dahlia greets fondly. She goes to say something but feels a tug on the neckline of her riding shirt. She looks down to see Seita-Astrid looking up at her.

“Why’re you here, Gina?” She asks. Regina nods towards Dahlia as she says, “I wanted to talk with your Mama. And visit my Little Apple of course.” She winks. The toddler nods in response before laying her head down on the teenager’s shoulder. “You wanna tell me why you aren’t down for your nap?”

“Cause it’s too hot!” Astrid huffs, pouting. Regina smiles sympathetically. The summer days in Leopold’s kingdom were sometimes too hot to handle. Though today isn’t too bad because of the overcast weather, she supposes it may still be a little too hot for Seita-Astrid’s little body. She begins to rub soothing circles on the girl’s back as she climbs up the stairs, meeting Dahlia halfway up the staircase.

“Do you think if Mama and I both put you down you’d fall asleep?” She proposes. Seita-Astrid shrugs.

“Only if I say bye-bye to Roshi before you go.” Regina chuckles.

“You got yourself a deal, Apple.”

* * *

“And here we are!” Helga exclaims as she dismounts, grabbing her towel out of her saddle bag. Agnarr doesn’t hear her though. He blinks rapidly, making sure this is real. He turns slowly, taking everything in with wonder. He isn’t surprised no-one else has found this little paradise yet. They travelled about forty-five minutes through dense forest, sometimes having to dismount to guide their horses around rickety old rope bridges just to get here.

But it was worth it. Completely worth it.

The group stood on reddish-brown sand. He looks over and sees that the little beach stretches around the water, continuing into what seems to be a cave. The cave however is covered by a waterfall, quite small as far as waterfalls go, but magnificent none the less. It falls majestically into the pool beneath it, the water a beautiful and clear aquamarine. Agnarr also notices the rocks, boulders, that lead up to the top of the waterfall. Some are regular rocks and boulders of granite , but some scattered amongst them were jet black, shining in the sunlight. He puts his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

“Amazing isn’t it?” Iduna stands beside him, looking around with a peaceful look on her face. Agnarr chuckles breathlessly.

“One of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been.” He replies, still in awe. He looks to the princess. “How did you guys find this place?” Iduna shrugs.

“I have no idea. Ingrid and Helga found it when we were younger, though I wasn’t there somehow, I suppose I-”

“Hey lovebirds!” Helga calls out. Iduna tenses beside him, shoulders hunching and eyes slowly widening. Agnarr chokes on a breath he’d been inhaling. He turns to his horse, Thor, leaning against him as he coughs and splutters, his face and neck turning red. “Oh sorry! Just wanted to call you over so we can – ouch!” Helga shouts, the slap Ingrid gave her being heard from where Agnarr was recovering. Taking double breaths, the young man slowly begins to regain control over himself.

“I-I am so sorry! My sister can be a bit of an imbecile sometimes.” Iduna grits out.

“I heard that!” Helga shouts, causing Agnarr to smile.

“You were meant to!” Iduna fires back. The strawberry-blond lays a hand on Iduna’s bare shoulder and squeezes it gently.

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs, “I know it was just a little banter. Even if it almost caused me to choke to death.” Iduna pouts, glancing up at him. He laughs as he wraps his arm around her, pulling her into him. He hears her gasp quietly and he turns to grab his towel from his saddle bag, fighting to keep a smirk off his face.

He turns back to her, clamping his lips down. She looks anywhere but him, her cheeks glowing red, playing with her fingers nervously. He clears his throat. “Come my little lovebird,” he teases, grabbing one of her hands, “Let’s go see your sisters.”

And as their palms brush against each other, their fingers lacing together, Agnarr’s heart begins to race and fireworks begin to explode in his stomach.

The energy between them is electrifying.

* * *

“The things you do for the people you love, eh?” Dahlia says as she passes the fan to Regina. The younger brunette giggles softly as she begins her turn to fan the sleeping toddler. She brushes her thumb across the small hand that clutches her two fingers tightly even in sleep.

“But it’s worth it. Most of the time.” Regina replies.

_I am doing this for you, Regina. You’ll thank me later. You will see all that I sacrificed for you will pay off in the end. It will be_ worth _it._

Regina frowns as her mother’s voice suddenly appears in her mind. Those words that she uttered in the carriage as they travelled to the Palace. Regina didn’t believe any of it then, and she certainly doesn’t believe any of it now.

“Something is troubling you, sweetheart.” Dahlia says softly, her hand grabbing Regina’s. Regina sighs shakily. She continues to fan Seita-Astrid, but her hand begins to shake, and the feelings of isolation and anger and sadness come to the surface at once. She bites down on her lip with force, swallowing the loud sob that wants to come out. She doesn’t attempt to stop the tears that escape from her eye, because here, she doesn’t have to act like a stone statue, void of emotion. She doesn’t have to hide how she truly feels or wait until she is completely alone to let it all out.

Here she can truly be herself.

“I wish I could live here. With you and Xander and-and Astrid,” she sniffles, “I wish I…I could call off the marriage and just run. Faraway where Cora couldn’t find me. I just…I just wish I didn’t live this life.” She says with desperation, her lips wobbling. “I wish you were my mother. I wish Xander was my father, I wish Seita-Astrid could be my baby sister. I wish to live a simple life in the village and work with the horses. Not to be some teenaged queen who is treated like dirt by her own stepdaughter and either utterly smothered or completely ignored by her fiancé. A fiancé I do not even want.” She rants, the tears continuously flowing and slightly stinging.

She looks to the older woman, who looks at her so kindly and with love. Love. A concept she knew about but still felt so foreign to her. Dahlia, Xander, Astrid and sometimes her father gave her love, showed her what it is like to be loved. Though she still didn’t exactly know what it was.

“My baby.” Dahlia says, her voice so comforting. She gets up from where she’s perched on the opposite side of the bed. Regina cries as she’s wrapped up in Dahlia’s arms and brought to the woman’s chest. She flings her arms around the older brunette, not wanting to let go. Not wanting to leave. Another thing Regina Mills wished for.

To be safe, forever, in Dahlia’s arms.

* * *

Iduna giggles as she watches Ingrid attempt to rub insect repellent over Agnarr’s arms. He recoils and gags at the smell of it and begins to swat her older sister away.

“That guy is such a child.” Iduna looks behind to her and sees Helga walking over, peeling a tangerine. The auburn princess nods in agreement, holding her hand out. Helga holds the fruit away, shaking her head.

“Yes. It’s the least you could do for me after _embarrassing_ me earlier. Oh! And making Agnarr choke.” Helga snorts.

“Oh please, I was just doing you two a favour.”

Iduna scoffs, “Favour? What favour?” The blonde gives her sister a look of disbelief as she hands her some of her tangerine.

“Is this a joke? Iduna, anyone around you two can sense the sexual tension between you both.” Iduna pauses, slice of tangerine stopping just before her mouth. She looks to her sister, who stands there, nonchalantly eating. Without warning she steps closer, wringing the orange out of Helga’s hands and throwing it into the sand. Helga splays her arms.

“What the he-”

“Helga. I will say this once and only once. There isn’t any sexual tension between us! Agnarr and I are just friends! Nothing more!” Iduna exasperates, flapping her arms about. Helga displays her palms, trying to calm Iduna down.

“Okay, so perhaps it isn’t sexual tension. But there’s _something._ You were all flustered when you returned with him the other day, you always look at each other during dinner, _and_ he gave you a ring-”

“Yes. A ring because he felt bad for upsetting me. He even asked me himself if he was crossing any boundaries. There is _nothing_ romantic or _sexual_ between us. Got it?” She says, pointing at her sister. She turns and walks away before Helga can respond and begins to climb up the boulders towards Agnarr and Ingrid. She huffs with annoyance. Why did Helga have to bring it up _now?_ She would (begrudgingly) have this conversation with her at any other time. She just wants to spend time with her sisters and her new friend, have fun before Agnarr returns to Uxtan. She’d rather not worry about her relationship with the young duke. In fact, there is nothing _to_ worry about.

Because they’re friends. Friends and nothing more.

“Iduna!” the princess snaps her head up to see Agnarr looking at her with a pleading face. She looks to her sister who shrugs, some of the insect repellent scooped in her hand. He looks back to the blonde. “I-Ingrid. I already have enough-”

“I haven’t even put any on you.” Ingrid grins, causing Iduna to laugh as she hauls herself up.

“Agnarr, my little lovebird,” she coos. Agnarr looks to her and she smirks at him. “Don’t be such a baby. It will help you. You can leave Tunnel Cove mosquito bite free!” She tries to persuade. He looks helplessly between the two sisters, before sighing. He looks to Iduna, his eyes narrowing.

“I will get you for this.” Iduna lifts an eyebrow.

“We’ll see.” She comments, before running off the top of the rockface and diving into the pool,

Allowing the cold water to swallow her up.

* * *

Regina can feel herself being lulled to sleep as Dahlia continues to rock her and pat her back. Her eyes flutter and she can’t help but cuddle closer, relishing in the affection, the care, the love. She’s relishing in all of it. “You know,” the mother begins, “you remind me a lot of Seita-Astrid’s mother.” Regina furrows her eyebrows, but doesn’t look up, doesn’t move from her comfortable position. She’s a lot more alert now. Seita-Astrid’s biological mother is hardly mentioned. If she ever is, especially in Regina’s presence, they are usually quite hushed about it, sometimes even moving to another part of the cottage to speak about her.

“I…I do?”

“Hmmm. You two are quite similar. You both long for a different life. You both are two loving and kind young woman stuck in positions in which there doesn’t seem to be a way out of. And, sadly, you two were let down by your families.” Regina sniffles, wanting to see if she can get more out of Dahlia.

“Why did Astrid’s mother have to give her away? If she wanted to keep her why didn’t she?”

“Well…well Xander and I weren’t told the specifics. But her mother had two sisters and from what they told me I…I believe her parents gave her an ultimatum.” Dahlia says uneasily. Regina frowns. An ultimatum. Just like her mother had given her after she’d run away from Leopold when he had first proposed.

“What was it?” Dahlia sighs and she stops rubbing Regina’s back.

“E-Either she gives the baby to us or...or he’d have the baby killed.” Regina gasps, scrambling to an upright position. She grips Dahlia’s hands tightly. Her body runs ice cold. She looks behind her to Seita-Astrid who continues to slumber peacefully.

“No… _no_. Surely…Surely the sister was mistaken. The-The father wouldn’t be _that_ cruel.”

“He is a ruthless man, Regina. It’s his family’s reputation that comes first. It didn’t just affect Trinket’s mother though. It affected the sister’s as well.” Regina slowly shakes her head in disbelief. Though Cora, her mother, was a ruthless bitch, the brunette is certain that she wouldn’t go to _those_ lengths.

“She went through all of that heartbreak,” Regina whispers, “All that heartbreak to protect Astrid.” 

“I had never seen anyone _that_ heartbroken before,” Dahlia recalls, “I just wanted to cry with her. I felt so guilty taking Seita-Astrid with me. I will never _ever_ forget those wails echoing against the walls.” Regina sighs, suddenly feeling sad for the woman she’s never met before. “But” Dahlia begins, taking Regina’s face into her hands, “Another thing you both have in common is your strength. Your resilience. Your kindness. Your bravery. All those things, the pair of you have.” Regina leans into the other’s touch as she stares into wise brown eyes, slightly darker than her own.

“I know that someday, perhaps not today or tomorrow or next month or next year. Maybe when I’m not around. I _know_ that you will find a way to live the life you want. Away from the palace, away from the king and his daughter and your mother. You will live happily and freely. Just like you’ve wished.” The teenager nods, her vision blurring.

“But p-promise me. Promise you and Seita-Astrid and Xander. You’ll all be there.” Dahlia leans forward and kisses the girl on the forehead.

“We will sweet girl. Whether it be standing right next to you or watching from above perched on our own stars. We will _always_ be there for you.” And Regina Mills finds herself in that warm, loving embrace.

That embrace that she’s loved since she was ten.


	12. And It All Begins to Fracture

Iduna bursts through the surface of the pool, allowing the oxygen to sweep into her lungs. She turns to float on her back so she can catch her breath. She closes her eyes, savouring the warmth on her face and the coolness of the water, mixing to give the young princess a sense of bliss; a feeling she’s not felt in months.

Tunnel Cove has always given Iduna a peaceful feeling. It was something about this little part of Arendelle that only her and sisters, and now Agnarr, knew about. Maybe because it felt so otherworldly, as if it had been taken right out of a fairy-tale. Perhaps because just hearing the waterfall flow into the pool, the buzzing of the bumblebees as they collected pollen from the honeysuckle, transported her away from everything that went on around her, to some place that she wished she could stay in-

The breath is sucked right out of her as a weight crashes onto her stomach. She’s practically shoved underwater, someone’s arms wrapping tight around her middle. She desperately tries to push the person’s arms off, kicking her legs wildly, trashing around. She opens one eye and to see dirty blonde hair floating around as her and _Helga_ fight beneath the surface of the pool. After what seems like minutes, Helga releases her, and the youngest princesses swims frantically to the surface.

“You bitch!” She splutters angrily, words sandwiched between big gulps of air. Helga surfaces, laughing. Iduna looks at her, a deep scowl on her face. “This isn’t funny! You could have drowned me!” Helga pouts.

“I know. Such a shame I didn’t succeed.” She quips. The red head narrows her eyes at her older sister.

“I _will_ splash you.” She threatens, causing Helga to smirk.

“Try me.” With a determined smile, Iduna turns her body slightly. Her arm, stretched all the way, whips forward, a huge wall of water spraying at Helga. The blonde quickly ducks back below the water, and to her horror, the water whips Ingrid in the face.

“I-Ingrid! Ingrid, I am so so-” Iduna’s words are cut short, water entering her mouth from the splash. She wipes her eyes, clearing her vision. Ingrid laughs, pointing at her. Iduna, though she won’t admit it right now, is happy to hear Ingrid laugh. Her sister would giggle, perhaps laugh a little quietly, but Iduna can’t properly recall the last time Ingrid ever laughed as loudly or genuinely as just now.

Helga’s head pops up. And Iduna doesn’t waste a moment to strike.

* * *

Agnarr watches with amusement as the girls begin to attack each other. Splash after splash, their laughter and shrieks above it all. As he wades further into the pool, he can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. He had always wanted siblings. It got incredibly lonely back in his duchy, in that crumbling and dreary stately home his broken family resided in. He had no one to go riding with or to swim in the river or the sea with him. He didn’t really have anyone to visit either. Agnarr didn’t have many friends, in fact, ‘ _acquaintances’_ is probably a better term for the four boys he usually spends time with back home.

His mother’s side of the family essentially cut him off, barring him from visiting them. They let him attend the funeral, but right after that, they said not return. Elsa is probably throwing a fit in her grave.

He dives under the water, letting it drown out the sound of the girls.

He swims deeper and deeper into the pool, feeling at home. It was quite weird, how he felt less alone when underwater than above the surface. He had to concentrate on remembering to return to the surface or because in Uxtan, a whole other world existed in the Eastern Sea full of bright coloured corals and anemones, different fishes of every size and marking. You could even find species of sharks depending on when you went. None the less, it distracted himself from the loneliness. The peacefulness, the way the _animals_ paid him more attention than his own guardians.

He finally reaches the sandy, silty bottom of the pool beneath the waterfall. He sifts his hands through it, feeling for anything. In the sands on the bottom of the sea, you can find clams with their pearly treasures still inside, fish trying to hide from predators and eels. Within a few seconds, his hand wraps around something trying to shimmy out of his grasp. He lifts his hand to see an eel, its skin the same colour at the sand. He’s a little surprised. Arendelle isn’t exactly a place known for eels, especially with its climate.

Feeling the burn in his lungs, he pushes off from the bottom of the pool and begins to swim back towards the surface. He swims towards the girls. _I will get you for this._ He smirks.

Sometimes, payback’s a bitch.

* * *

The girls lean against the rocks, still a little out of breath from their splash fight. Iduna can’t help but smile, being reminded of when they were younger. A much simpler time. A much happier, less angsty time. With a sigh, she says, “I wish we could just stay in Tunnel Cove forever.”

“I second that,” Ingrid agrees, tracing shapes in the water, “I almost feel like if we did, most of the stuff that has happened to us wouldn’t have.” Iduna shrugs, sort of getting what Ingrid’s saying. They’d be different people, perhaps in different circumstance. But, in way, Iduna wouldn’t change the path she was put on. She wouldn’t change meeting and falling in love with Asarja, and she _certainly_ wouldn’t change having Seita-Astrid. Despite the constant longing for her and missing her, she wouldn’t change a thing. Besides, maybe she wouldn’t have become such fast friends with Agnarr if-

Wait.

“Where’s Agnarr?” She asks suddenly, looking around. No strawberry-blonde hair in sight. She pushes off the rock to begin searching for him, but there’s suddenly bubbling next to her. Agnarr comes up for air, his hair slicked back from being wet, shimmers from the sunlight. In fact, his whole-body shimmers, and his bottle green eyes are even more magnificent than before, the sun somehow illuminating them.

“What’s up?” He says, breaking through to her. She blinks.

“I was…was worried. I couldn’t see you.” He smiles.

“Sorry, I was just exploring the bottom of the pool. But look what I found!” He exclaims and pulls out some long, kind of beige animals that wriggles in his hand, its orange eyes looking like they might pop out. Iduna screams and swims away.

“Agnarr what the hell is that thing?”

“It’s an eel,” He laughs, “I’m surprised you even have any here. I wouldn’t have thought they’d survive in your climate.”

“Just-Just put it back where you found it!” Iduna begs. Though her gut reaction is to be afraid, and to her credit, it does look repulsive, she can’t help but also be intrigued by it. None of the princesses were really taught about other animals apart from those native to Arendelle. Per her father’s orders of course.

Agnarr shrugs. “Fine.” And he releases it. By throwing it. And it lands right on Iduna’s front. The princess let’s out such a scream, those travelling by would have thought she was being burned alive. She scrambles up the rock, cursing under breath as she keeps slipping on the slimy moss. Ingrid herself swims away a little, while Helga just stays put, laughing so hard that her face is turning red. Agnarr laughs, clutching his stomach. Iduna frowns.

“That wasn’t funny!”

“Are you kidding? That was hilarious!” Helga chokes out, trying to catch her breath. Agnarr lifts an eyebrow.

“I did say you’d pay for not helping me earlier.” He reminds, causing Iduna to scoff.

“For helping you?”

“For subjecting to torture. Besides, that’s a Sandstone eel. One of the few breeds of eel that’s harmless. To us humans anyways.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I’ve studied them. You get far more dangerous breeds of eel in the waters surrounding the Eastern Isle. That eel is pretty tame compared to others I’ve encountered before.” Iduna just stares at him. She wants to argue back, but much to her dismay, he seems to know what he’s talking about, so there’s not point. Compared to other high-ranking women, her and her sisters were by far the most educated. One of the few things she credits her father with. His insistence that his daughters be educated as if they were princes. She goes to say something, but Ingrid interrupts them.

“Alright, alright,” the blonde says, swimming towards the group. “Why don’t we take a break from the water and eat something? The sun is starting to reach its highest point, which means it’s coming up to noon. We only have about three hours left before we need to return.”

“Oh, yes! I’m famished.” Helga groans before disappearing under the water. Agnarr nods and begins to swim away,

Leaving Iduna to contemplate how she’ll get the last laugh.

* * *

“Inge and I are beginning to pack everything up. Make sure you get dried off before we head back.” Helga reminds the pair who are still swimming around in the pool. Iduna nods and Agnarr throws an ‘okay’ out before he dives back underwater. Iduna starts to swim for the shore nearest to the cave behind the waterfall. She faintly smirks, ready to carry out her plan. She finally gets near enough where she can stand and wade back to land. She turns just in time to see Agnarr’s head pop up. “Agnarr!” She shouts, motioning for him to follow her, “Let’s explore the cave before we go!”

She begins to scurry to the cave, not bothering to wait for him. She begins to tip-toe across wet and slippery rocks of different heights, her back pressed against the mouth of the cave. She savours the coolness of the stone, allowing it to cool her skin which seemed to be on fire. Iduna can’t help but think of the scolding she’ll receive not just from Gerda, but from her mother as well. _Princesses do not go red from the sun, they take care of their skin, make sure it’s clear and glowing!_

The princess hops from the final rock, landing on firm, compact sand. The roar of the waterfall, which acts as a barrier between her and the outside, rings in her ear. She stares straight ahead of her, shocked to see that the cave stretches well into the darkness, specked with little dots that glow an illuminous white. Perhaps it could be a tunnel. From what she had read, there were tunnels, some long clogged from centuries of dirt and sand, that led out to the seas that surrounded Arendelle; the Northern Ocean in the north and the Sea of Arendelle in the south. Maybe this one is yet to close, or even has tunnels connected off it that lead to other places within Arendelle.

Iduna takes a step forward but, “I wouldn’t go much farther.” Echoes off the walls of granite rock. She looks back and sees Agnarr making his way towards her. Her head leans to the side. He smiles. “Exploring caves and tunnels is fun, but you need equipment, to make sure that you’re safe and that you don’t…well, die.” He explains. She turns more towards him.

“ _You_ have explored caves?” she questions with curiosity. He nods.

“A friend of mine and I explore the Osertion Cliffs on the southernmost tip of the Eastern Isles. They’re gigantic, we’ve barely made a dent. There are loads of little tunnels and crev-”

Iduna doesn’t let him finish. Without warning she grabs him by the wrists and backs him up until he grunts as his back makes contact with rock. She holds his arms above his head and wedges her leg between his own.

* * *

Agnarr stares at the princess in front of him. She licks her lips, and his skin begins to burn, the cool of the stone does nothing for him. With a smirk, Iduna shifts her leg, and his core ignites, heat shooting up and travelling to every inch of his body while his body begins to shiver. With hooded eyes and hair seeming too bright to be real, the girl, with painful slowness closes the gap between them. Their breaths, hers calm and even, his short and trembling, mingle together and their heat makes Agnarr want to fall to his knees.

His teeth dig into his lips, willing himself to not loose control. He continues to stare into her eyes, which seem to call to him, urging him to bring himself closer to her. Those beautiful hazel eyes. Those beautiful hazel eyes that sparkled in the candlelight that night in the hall, that night after they’d first met in the clearing, in Asarja’s grave.

Asarja. His mother. Barely two days since her body was lain in the earth. He barely knows this beautiful princess with auburn hair.

_You are not him._

As fast as candlelight extinguished by a single breath, all arousal, longing to touch Iduna vanished.

* * *

Taking her by surprise, Agnarr puffs his chest and pushes off the rock wall. Before she can say anything, he wrenches his wrists out of her grip and his hands lay on her shoulders, squeezing them. “What are you doing?” He growls. Iduna, suddenly nervous, shrugs as innocently as she can. She didn’t expect him to turn like that, for his eyes to be ablaze, muscles she hadn’t notice before gleam with water and sweat. “I don’t...we can’t.” He breathes out.

“I wasn’t…this wasn’t-” Iduna can’t seem to find the words to explain. It was obvious he was becoming _very_ aroused, _very_ quickly and if she was being honest, she was being swept up in the charged storm too. He shakes his head. With sadness, his features, just moments ago contorted with concentration, harden and his eyes seem to physically change colour.

“I am not my father. I will _not_ take advantage of a women until she is _ready_ or gives consent. I won’t advance any further.” He says sharply, before the warmth of his hands leaves her shoulders and he leaves the youngest princess behind the roaring waterfall at the mouth of the cave,

Embarrassment and shame coursing through her veins.

* * *

“I don’t even know,” Helga starts as she pops another chocolate in her mouth, “Where you even got the confidence to do something like that. But I’m begging you. Give me some.” Iduna huffs shortly as she clasps the simple necklace around her neck. She looks at her sister in the mirror, frowning.

“Shut up. I’m already mortified enough as it is.” The red-haired girl mutters, smoothing out her mauve purple dress. She bends down to grab a pair of simple pearl earrings when she hears Ingrid say, “What even spurred you to do such a thing?”

“I just wanted to get back him for throwing a _live eel_ at me! Now I fear I just reminded him of a repressed memory or something of the sort.”

“So, you resorted to _teasing_ him? Una, we only met him a week and a half ago.”

“And now that week and a half will mean nothing. He probably wants nothing to do with me now. Who knows he might even ask for the ring back.” Iduna says sadly, now playing with said ring. She watches as Ingrid puts her book down and slowly stands to her feet making her way over.

“Nonsense. Something tells me he wouldn’t end your friendship just because of that. Besides I’m certain you’ll have time to talk after the dinner to sort things out.” Iduna smiles a little.

“What is this stupid dinner about anyway?” Helga suddenly asks, placing the now empty plate on the floor, “What are we celebrating that we had to dress all fancy and stuff?” Ingrid snorts.

“If I hadn’t known you, the last thing I would guess is that you’re of royal blood. And the heir at that.” Helga fake laughs, before flipping Ingrid off, causing the two by the mirror to laugh.

“My money is that the Duke and father have been conspiring behind all of our backs and has promised Agnarr to one of us.” Iduna proposes, causing Ingrid and Helga to freeze. A silence falls over the sisters as reality starts to sink in.

As their reality, as princesses, starts to sink in.

* * *

This had to possibly be the worst dinner Helga had ever attended. In her royal life she had had her fair share spillages, wrong dishes, eccentric tastes become a little too uncomfortable and, on some occasions, literal brawls erupt at the tables. But nothing, _nothing_ could have prepared her for this monstrosity. Agnarr and Iduna, much to their obvious discomforts, were seated next to each other. Other nights, the pair had been so deep in their own conversation with only each other, they often either didn’t hear or ignored anyone who dared to interfere.

Tonight, the pair didn’t speak. At any point Iduna made a move to speak to him, Agnarr started a conversation with Harold and Sonja. Agnarr couldn’t meet Iduna’s eyes and now Iduna looks like she’s about to cry.

Great.

Then Duchess Rita brought up the succession and why it was Helga and _not_ Ingrid taking over after Harold died, because if Helga is going to candour, her father wouldn’t abdicate, _especially_ having her as his heir. In her defence, Rita just asked out of curiosity, and it was quite puzzling, even to the two princesses. Helga, being the sarcastic little bitch she loves being, had the nerve to say,

_“Why, that is such a good question, Your Grace. Papa, why is it that I’m before Ingrid?”_

And her parents immediately bristled, their faces turning red and they stumbled over an answer. At some point, her father got so angry that he slammed his fists on the table, startling not just those seating around him, but also one of the servants who ended up spilling wine and soup all over the Duke of Uxtan. He then ended up blaming _her,_ which caused her to shoot back,

 _“It’s not my fault you have no leash on your temper.”_ Which caused her father to nearly _strike her_ in front of Agnarr and his parents.

Great.

And so, after Runeard – which turns out to be the name of Agnarr’s father – returned freshly dressed they all ate their food and somehow as their dinner plates were being removed, it was brought up how one of the many dishes plated in front of them for dinner had scallops in it.

Unbeknownst to any of the royals, Rita is allergic to scallops.

So, the Duchess had to be escorted, quite hurriedly, to the royal infirmary to try and stop anything deadly from happening to their guest.

Great.

But the cherry on top of the cake happened just as desert was finishing. Her father had cleared his throat and glanced towards the Duke with a knowing smile as he placed his napkin down. “Children,” he started, looking everyone in the eye, “There is something that the Duke of Uxtan and I would like to discuss with you.” Helga straightened out immediately at her father’s words. Most discussions with her father, if either her or her sisters were involved never really worked in their favour.

The day he told her she was now heir comes to her mind.

“As you know, the duchy of Uxtan is quite small. Trade agreements are hard to come by for the Duke and Duchess, as well as visitors. Their duchy has fallen on a bit of a hard time.” Agnarr had scoffed at that but masked it as a cough. Helga chuckled as Runeard glared at his son. Then the Duke spoke,

“For the last few months, I have been looking for a woman to marry my son.” Before that point, Helga hadn’t been paying much attention to what her father had been saying. The way he had been going, she had simply thought they’d agree to some trade deal, something, in her opinion, that didn’t call for them all to dress in their finest gowns or have a dinner that lasted for hours.

But then Runeard mentioned a wife. For Agnarr.

“To give him an heir,” He continues, “to help him rule over our Duchy and bring it out of the ruin I’m afraid it is starting to become.” Helga gripped the arms of her chair as anxiety begun to sprout in the pit of her stomach. Her heart banged on her chest, almost as if it begged to be let out. She glanced over to Iduna who looked between her parents, and saw the faintest of head shakes, a last, desperate secretive plead. A plead not to have her wed, to allow her to fall in love again in her own time.

“At first, it was automatically decided that it would be Helga Agnarr would wed,” her mother said wiping the corners of her mouth, “Then we would know that Helga would be married and have a consort, and if they had enough children, one could become the next Duke or Duchess of Uxtan.” Helga’s blood ran cold from the shock of everything that was being said.

“But then we realised how much of a connection Iduna and Agnarr have developed. Especially in such little time.” Helga, if it were a completely different situation, would have burst out laughing.

But still frozen in her seat, she watched helplessly as auburn hair went flying out of the dining room, sobs echoing until she was gone from the dining hall, gone from the castle no doubt sprinting to the grave of the one-person she found absolute solace in.


	13. And it All Begins to Crumble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Just checking in 😊  
> How are you?  
> Have you had some water today?  
> Have you gotten some fresh air?  
> Thank you to those who have read this story so far. I hope you enjoy it and stick around, there's gonna be some drama in the next few chapters 😏  
> ❤ Rosie

Somehow Asarja’s grave seems farther away. The path seems like it’s grown twenty feet longer and the bog has either completely disappeared, or she passed it and didn’t realise. Everything around her is hazy and somehow completely silent. She can’t hear herself sucking in gulp after gulp of air as she continues to sprint away from that prison of stone and jewels, but she feels it. She feels her lungs struggling to contract and garner enough oxygen. She can’t hear her wails, but she feels those tears, like fat droplets of warm summer rain, on her cheeks.

Or is it her sweat? Perhaps it’s both.

As soon as she said those words in the parlour room, which caused silence to fall over her and her sisters as they realise, _remember_ why Agnarr came to Arendelle in the first place, she felt as if she jinxed it. For herself, for Helga. The daughters her parents were hoping, no, were _forcing_ to marry. Iduna had gotten so wrapped up in how genuine and kind he was, how sassy and intelligent he was, just so wrapped up in _him_ that any thought of his parents’ and her parents’ mission were just subconsciously pushed out of her mind.

But she’ll have even more time to explore the different layers of the young duke because now she is to wed him. No matter how much she begs and cries, she knows she won’t get out of it. It’s final, it’s decided. Without her or Agnarr’s input.

She comes the edge of the clearing, just making out the outline of the broken magnolia tree in the fading light. She isn’t sure how late it is in the evening, but the black of night seems to be coming rather quickly. The princess collapses to her knees, a sudden wave of pain travelling across her head, causing her to hiss and clutch it. She glance up, but no longer sees the magnolia tree. It’s seems that night has fallen. She can see the stars twinkling, although they seem to be a range of colours. Are they even stars? They seem more to just be hazy orbs, some transforming into snakes that dance across the darkness.

Another wave of pain.

_Let’s lay down._

And the sweet princess with fiery hair aglow lays on the edge of the clearing, surrounded by orange honeysuckles and purple crocuses, looking to be in a peaceful sleep.

* * *

“I’m going after her.” Agnarr says, shooting up from his chair. Helga simply shakes her head.

“I wouldn’t. She needs some time alone. Time to…to process.”

“But I need to speak to her.” Agnarr says with desperation, looking towards the same set of doors Iduna had bolted out of a few minutes before. Ingrid shifts in her seat, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“You know where she went, Agnarr. Let her be alone there. At least for fifteen minutes. You know better than anyone she hates to be disturbed.”

“Where did she go?” The Duke of Uxtan asks.

“With all due respect, Your Grace, it’s a very private and sacred place for your future daughter in-law. I don’t think she would like any of us to tell you just yet.” Ingrid answers coldly. Helga smiles with pride. It was rare for Ingrid to ever speak with such finality and coldness. Especially to strangers. However, when it comes to her sisters, protecting them is something she will push past her fear of socialising for. Because they mean everything to her.

And Helga relishes in the feeling of meaning something to someone.

“You mean that gravestone in the woods? She still visits that thing?” Her mother says dismissively. Helga snaps her head towards her.

“Yes, mother. She still visits the gravesite of the man she loved. That she _still_ loves.” She grits out, using all the strength she could possibly muster to keep her rage at bay.

“Oh, Helga don’t be ridiculous. Asarja has been dead for what three, four years now? It was nothing more than a teenaged fling.”

“But it wasn’t just that, _was it_?” Ingrid says now, slowly standing with the grace and elegance of a future queen. A queen she should be. Not Helga, not Iduna. Ingrid. Ingrid should be queen. Helga looks up to her older sister, who stares at their mother, her expression challenging the older woman to argue with her. “I don’t quite understand where you got the notion that you could comment on Iduna’s pervious relationship. From what I understand, their love and the connection they had was love in its truest and purest form. Something you’d have no knowledge of.”

“You _insolent_ girl!” Sonja seethes. Ingrid shrugs.

“How am I being insolent, mother? Did you or did you not teach me that a true Queen is always honest to her subjects, to her family. Regardless of if the truth will hurt them or not? I am telling you the truth. You know nothing of love or how to express it or give it. Your children’s hatred of you being a solid piece of evidence.” Helga stares up at Ingrid in astonishment, shocked that she’s talking back and not just sitting there, too afraid to speak.

“You do not speak to your mother that way.” Harold huffs, giving his eldest a pointed look. “You treat her with respect.”

“Well, that is quite a rich statement coming from you. Considering neither of you respect any of us. At all.” Helga comments sarcastically, reaching for her glass of wine and chugging it, not caring about how ‘unladylike’ the action is. She looks to Agnarr who is standing there looking awkward.

“Agnarr, are you sure you wish to marry in to this absolute mess of a family? We’re a little bit unconventional, a little bit, hmmmm, fractured.” Agnarr shrugs.

“So is my family. I’m used to it.” He replies, which causes Runeard to clear his throat. Helga giggles.

“What’s wrong Your Grace? Do you have skeletons in your closet, too?” She asks, wriggling her eyebrows.

“Alright Helga, that is _enough!_ ”

“Uh…I…No-No I do not, child.”

_“Bullshit.”_ Agnarr coughs, causing Helga to lean forward and glance between the two men.

“Oh, oh! This is gives me a s-splendid idea!” Helga hiccups, “Why don’t we go around the table and say a secret that we’ve all been keeping. Remember this is a no j-judgement z-zone.”

“Helga, you’re drunk.” Sonja deadpans.

“And you’re bitch. What of it?” Helga suddenly feels a slight cool radiating into her shoulders. She glances up to see Ingrid looking down at her, smiling.

“Alright, Helga let’s get you away from this place before you start a war.” She signals for Agnarr to come and help. The two lift Helga out of her seat. Supporting her from her arms.

Leaving the devastation they had made behind.

* * *

_Iduna groans uncomfortably as she feels something dig into her back. With a pout, she slowly sits up, rubbing her eyes to try and wake herself up. One of the reasons why she refuses to take naps: the groggy feeling afterwards._

_“I was hoping you’d wake up soon.”_

_Iduna’s awake now. Her whole body is awake and alert. Her heart races and the blood pumps in her ears. Her whole body is tense, rigid. Her stomach is flipping, tossing and turning; she can feel the bile slowly rise in her throat. That too familiar sting of salt sits on her waterline as everything that surrounds her blurs together into one watery mess as the doubt and fear creep into mind._

_Because it isn’t real._

**_He_ ** _isn’t real._

_“This is just my imagination, you – you aren’t real. This isn’t real, it can’t be. You’re dead.” She rambles in denial, not daring to turn around. That laugh. Hearty, a little gravelly, loud and joyous. That laugh she hasn’t heard in months, years. It sounds so close, so real. But it isn’t real **.** It **can’t** be real. _

_“I’m not denying nor agreeing with you. I’m simply…here. With you. Like you’ve wished every night for the last three almost f-”_

_“Don’t.” She begs, “Don’t. If this is some sort of…of payback for what happened earlier, then stop it. I’m sorry. You win, I’m sorry. Just please I-”_

_“I’m not the person you speak of.” He says. Clenching her fists, she turns around ready to shout at the man she is to marry. The twisted man who finds this funny._

_But the words choke her as she meets those beautiful dark brown eyes she missed so much, sparkling in the golden sun which has begun to set._

* * *

“Wha – hey! I was having fun!” Helga shouts, trying to wiggle free from their clutches. Agnarr glances at Ingrid who seems to stumble the tiniest bit. She seems to be able to hold her alcohol well, or at least, be able to play the part in acting sober. Helga, however. Helga is just chaos on legs.

“And I’m glad but your ‘fun’ might have ended in all of us getting beaten. Severely.” Ingrid says as they turn a corner.

“It still might.” Agnarr murmurs, a phantom pain stinging his back.

“I jus’ wanna apologise,” Helga begins to speak, “on Una’s behalf. She’s not really like that. You…you know there’s an energy between you two. I’m thinking that she’s just a little ‘little’ bit afraid. Afraid to love after what happened with Asarja. He was-was her whole world.” Agnarr doesn’t say anything. Helga may be drunk, but it seems that she’s one of those drunks whose consumption of alcohol makes them wise and knowledgeable. Or seem it, anyways.

From how Iduna reacted to Agnarr looking around that afternoon, to how she talked about him when they rode through the fields and paths on North-Star that day, Helga was right. Asarja had been Iduna’s whole world. And so much more. He isn’t sure just how well he can live up to such expectations. And that is something that scares him.

Not being enough.

But perhaps if he knew a few things he might be able to understand Iduna a little more. He might meet those unspoken expectations. He knows he shouldn’t pry, but he feels as if he’s already walking on unsolid ground. Iduna’s already upset enough as it is. Maybe if he could connect with her just a little more…

“What happened to Asarja? I know he’s passed away but-”

“Our father had him murdered.” Ingrid says, causing Agnarr to stiffen. He didn’t expect that. They continue to walk, but the duke can’t seem to find a way to respond to that. He could comment on how cruel that was of the King (which was obvious), could ask how Iduna reacted (again, quite an obvious answer), or he could be a little vulnerable and mention how it mirrors his own situation.

How his father had his mother murdered.

“Iduna was pissed,” Helga adds like she had read his mind, “And was so shocked that she went into labour early.”

Now Agnarr stops. He looks at Helga, his mouth open, eyes almost popping out of their sockets, and stomach dropping to the floor. He grips her arm tighter and looks into her eyes, searching them, hoping to see some sort of mischievous twinkle, because surely this is a just a joke. A drunken joke. Ingrid glares at the back of her sister’s head, looking like she might thwack her for what she just said.

Now he feels a little frantic. Because surely Iduna might have told him, _would_ have told him if she had been _with child._ And his father would have known, because King Harold would not keep _that_ from him, especially since they were discussing marriage.

Besides, Agnarr would have seen a small child running around the castle, right? _Right?_

“You’re joking.” Is all he says, looking between the two blondes. He steps away from them. “She would have told me.”

“I have news for you, bud. We’ve only known you just short of two weeks. I doubt Una would just tell you about Seita-Astrid.” Helga whispers. He swallows but it hurts. His throat, his mouth, everything has gone dry. He runs his hand through his hair, trying so hard not to scream in the hall. Helga’s too drunk to just pull a name like _that_ out of her ass. It’s a beautiful name, but a name someone – whose mind is completely hazy and swirling around – wouldn’t just conjure up.

Not unless that name was important to them.

He glances to Ingrid whose eyes seem a little wild, like she isn’t quite sure what to make of it. Despite the protests, he lifts Helga up, arm hooked under the bend in her legs. “Show me to her room,” he says breathlessly, “Then you and I will look for your sister. And you’re going to explain this whole mess to me.”

* * *

_She wants to reach out and touch him. To make sure he’s real, he’s tangible, he’s somehow alive. Iduna doesn’t know if she can go through heartbreak again, go through losing Asarja again. Her eyes don’t leave his, they can’t. Not when she hasn’t seen them since the night before his murder. Those brilliant eyes, a rich deep brown, shimmering under the sunlight._

_She missed them._

_“I’ve…I’ve missed you,” she breathes, “So much.” He smiles. Asarja smiles. This is…this simply cannot be happening._

_But then he touches her._

_Iduna audibly gasps as his fingers graze her hand, that she can **feel**_ _him. She swallows thickly, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “A-Asarja,” she stutters, “What is happening? How is this…how are you here?”_

_“I was granted time to see you.” Iduna grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers, a sob escaping as she squeezes his hand. He was granted time. By whom or by what didn’t matter. Asarja is here. With her. Something she’d wished for every night since his funeral. Just one final time to see him. She looks him up and down. One thing that stands out is that he hasn’t aged. He’s still eighteen. In fact, she’s a year older than him now._

_Because time waits for no-one. Not even the mourning._

_She sniffles and wipes her cheeks, wanting to make the most of the time she has with him. She already cries enough already. She looks to him and says, “We don’t have to do anything. Just sitting here, with you. It’s all I could ever want.” And she means that. With everything she could possibly have. Saying nothing, Asarja wraps his strong arms around her and pulls her to his chest. She inhales and buries face into him, the scent of pine filling her nostrils._

_The scent of home._

* * *

Ingrid glances ahead towards Agnarr. He walks a head of her, the determination in his gait worrying her. He’s determined to get answers, whether it be from her or Helga, perhaps even her parents. In other situations this would be such an admirable thing to do, but it’s clear that the young man doesn’t quite grasp the gravity of the situation. With a huff, she picks up her pace and manages to catch up to him. “Can we just calm ourselves down before we go running off?”

He looks back at her briefly. “I am calm.”

“That’s the biggest piece of crap I have heard all day.” Ingrid scoffs. Agnarr simply shrugs, still speeding towards the doors that lead towards the stables. Ingrid tries again.

“Agnarr I don’t think this is a good idea. Iduna will _not_ appreciate you just barging in on her demanding answers on something you shouldn’t know.”

“But _why_ shouldn’t I know?” He asks, stopping abruptly. Ingrid jerks back before she can walk into him. “We are to be married after all.”

“Of course, but don’t you think it’d be better if you found out from Iduna herself? Her pregnancy and Asarja are extremely hard topics for her to talk about. The pain from losing them both is still very raw for her. Asarja wasn’t just some…young teenage love gone wrong. They were going to run away to be together. To marry.” Agnarr’s jaw flutters as he looks away. Ingrid steps towards him.

“Helga wasn’t wrong,” she says, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “When she said there was something between you two. I think you’ve both begun to care deeply for each other. But Iduna is cautious. Asarja was murdered, she had to give her baby-girl away, all within a few months of each other. She is still hurting, Agnarr. You can’t just expect her to tell you everything at the announcement of marriage. Relationships take time to build.”

He sighs deeply, looking up to the ceiling. “You-you’re right. You’re right.” He mutters. Ingrid smiles.

“I know I am.” Agnarr lets out a breathy chuckle. Ingrid begins to guide him back the way they came, away from the doors. “Let’s just wait for her to return. I’m sure you two can talk then.”

* * *

_They haven’t really spoken. A few mumbles of loving words, kisses on cheeks and hands, but not major conversation. The sun has dipped lower, now beginning to take cover behind the fjord. Iduna cuddles even closer into Asarja, a ball of anxiety beginning to grow in her stomach. **I was granted time to see you.**_ _Though she didn’t want to dwell on it, she can’t help but think about Asarja’s words. She doesn’t want to question it and jeopardise the chance that this could happen again. That she could see him again. She feels him shift his position slightly._

_“Why were you coming to visit me?” Asarja asks. Iduna looks at him briefly before returning her gaze onto the fjord._

_“Because I was told I’m to marry a young duke whose been visiting Arendelle.”_

_“Do you wish to marry him?” Iduna doesn’t answer right away, but simply shrugs. She isn’t sure. Not sure at all. While her and Agnarr had become firm friends, they weren’t lovers. Yet. She hated it when Helga was right, she must admit her older sister had a sixth sense for these sorts of things. Her memory flicks backs to certain times. When her and Agnarr rode North-Star together and she got those butterflies, and her eyes could barely part from his lips. The incident in the cove – which she has yet apologised for – and that charged, heavy energy surrounding them._

_When their hands touched for the first time the night he gave her the ring. When she first saw that lazy smile and thought it was the one of the handsomest things she had ever seen._

_She slowly sits up from where she had tucked herself into Asarja’s side but doesn’t let his hand go. “Your mother told me that…that all you ever wanted was for me to be happy.” She says quietly, her voice only just above a whisper, “And that if I ever fell in love again, that you saw from wherever you were that I was happy again, it would help you find peace.”_

_“My mother would be correct.” Iduna twists her body to look Asarja in the eyes. She takes his other hand in hers and squeezes them._

_“My sunshine,” she mutters her lip wobbling, “My precious sunshine. You know my love for you is never-ending. Asarja, you’ve always been my rock, my sky, my sea, m-my everything. You showed me what it was like to be appreciated and heard and…and loved. And you gave me the greatest gift I could have ever imagined…my first child. Our daughter.” She sniffles as her hands now caress his face, her thumb gliding over his cheeks lovingly._

_“I love you more than any word I know can express. You mean everything to me. You always will. But,” a soft sob escapes her, her heart of glass starting to break, “But though the pain of losing you will always be constant, and the memories we had together will forever be stored in my mind and in my heart I…I have t-to let you g-go. I have to let you go. So we can both be happy, both be at peace.” She cries._

_He goes to hug her, to comfort her, but she stops him. She shakes her head. “Just let me look at you. Please. I want to remember every single thing about you.” She begs through her tears. She harshly wipes at her eyes before she lets them roam every inch of him, takes everything in and tucks them away in her mind. His smooth deep golden-brown skin, those gorgeous deep brown eyes, those little dimples she absolutely loves. His precious button nose and his dark, brunette hair that he always braided back. He hands that were rough and slightly calloused but somehow soft and always gentle. His smell._

_And his lips._

_Those lips she had kissed so many times, sometimes to the point they were slightly swollen. They were always slightly chapped, but it didn’t matter to her. To her they were perfect._

_She slowly leans in; her hands trail down from his face to grab his undershirt that peaks out. She glances up through her tears to see his own eyes shimmering in the last of the fading sun. Time was running out. With all the strength she has, she pulls him closer to her._

_A final act. To finish the chapter they had started._

_For a moment, when things seemed to have stilled, they simply stare at each other. It was like that moment when they shared their first kiss. Their breaths, hot and uneven, mingle in the space between them and an energy neither of them could describe begins to build. Their eyes can’t seem to break their gaze. A tear rolls down Asarja’s cheek as his fingers graze Iduna’s cheek._

_“My love for you is as strong as spider silk and as constant as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.” He whispers. Iduna smiles._

_“You were a man of few words, but a few poetic ones at that.” She swallows thickly, trying to lighten the mood. Regardless of her words, her final message to him, to Asarja, so whole and beautiful is whispered as tears stream her face._

_“My love for you is as constant as the stars above.”_

_And with their bittersweet words hanging in the air, the two surge towards each other, their lips joining and teeth clicking. Asarja, always the one to lead, swipes his tongue along Iduna’s bottom lip and her whole-body shivers as her mouth slowly opens, allowing his tongue in to explore. Her arms sling around his neck, bringing them even closer together; they melt into each other. Iduna’s eyes slip close and her hands feel all over him, desperate to remember what he feels like._

_And those stars return and dance across her eyes as the hot energy begins to burn her core._

* * *

Iduna gasps as she sits up, breathless. The fingers of her left hand touch her tingling lips. The fingers on the right one slowly make their way down her front, wanting to satisfy that urge Asarja didn’t have time to. However the cry of bird startles her out of her daze. She looks around as she lets out a shuddering breath. She’s at the edge of the clearing. She must have passed out. “It wasn’t entirely real.” The princess mumbles.

Iduna slowly gets to her feet. Dusk has officially settled over Arendelle. Sighing, she turns to return to the castle, wanting nothing more than to sleep and return to whatever heaven her and Asarja had just been in together. But her eyes suddenly land on a little honeysuckle, bright orange and the only one shrouded in a beam of moonlight. Orange. Asarja’s favourite colour.

Asarja.

_I have to let you go. So we can be happy._

She let him go. She let Asarja go. A week ago, she would have collapsed back to the ground and cried, sobbed at the idea of it.

But now, in this moment, she looks up to the sky. Completely clear and dotted with stars, the moon shining. She smiles as she spots a star on the right of the full moon, brighter than the rest. Asarja’s star. It’s where he will sit and watch her, watch over Seita-Astrid too. Iduna deep breath in, allowing the clear forest air to enter her lungs.

And at the top of her voice, to make sure he hears her upon his star, she shouts,

_“My love for you is as constant as the stars above!”_


	14. And It All Falls Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❌❌❌ THERE WILL BE MENTIONS OF ABUSE AND INJURY FROM ABUSE/TORTURE❌❌❌

“Rise and shine.” A voice singsongs as the person begin to open her curtains. Iduna doesn’t move hoping they’ll leave her alone. Her foggy head can’t even tell who is speaking to her. Though she is ashamed to admit it, she’s still a bit drunk from her little binge the night before. At the time she swore that she needed it. After her parents’ little announcement that they were forcing her into marriage and that very, _very_ vivid dream of Asarja, the princess just wanted to escape into a world of complete emptiness. Just a silent, black void that she knew downing tons of alcohol would help her reach.

But now she is really, _really_ regretting her decision.

“Iduna, I know you’re awake.”

“I’m still a little drunk.” She responds, her soft words still slightly slurred. The person, a female, sighs.

“Well, we need to fix that. You have be in the Throne Room in an hour and a half.” Iduna whines, kicking her legs.

“Why? Can’t you tell ‘em I’m ill or something?” A breathy chuckle. Iduna furrows her eyebrows. “Wait…wait who-who is this? Who are you?” she asks. It’s silent for a few moment as whoever else in in the bedroom continues to move around, looking through drawers, combing through jewellery. 

The comfortable silence and the warmth of the sun begin to lull Iduna back to sleep, the last remaining traces of alcohol in her blood helping to knock her back out. “Oh no, you don’t.” The woman says. The pillow is thrown off her face and Iduna gasps as she feels herself being pulled into an upright position. With the natural light still too bright for her to handle, the red head has to resort to squinting.

She can just make out platinum blonde hair and ice blue eyes.

“Oh thank god, it’s you.” Iduna sighs with relief, “I thought it might have been Mother.”

“You think I would have let her come to sort you out after I discovered the endless number of empty bottles in the kitchen?” Ingrid laughs, squeezing Iduna’s hand. Iduna frowns. Like a young child needed to be held by their mother, she crawls to her sister and snuggles into her side, wrapping her arms around Ingrid’s middle.

Iduna smiles lazily as she feels a kiss on her hairline. She loves Ingrid’s motherly affection. The affection the three of them wished Sonja would give them still. Once Iduna turned ten, Ingrid was the one to bandage the cuts and bruises and kiss them to make them feel better. She helped them to dress and read to them at night. She did all of that.

Ingrid. Not Sonja.

“Something is troubling you.” Iduna glances up to Ingrid, whose eyes look dull with sadness. “You wouldn’t get _this_ intoxicated unless something awful happened. The last time you did this…well, you know-”

“Oh I remember.” Iduna mumbles bitterly, recalling the week after returning from the Estelle Palace. With nothing but the gown she had worn – the last of Seita-Astrid’s beautiful scent clinging to the fibres – the locket she still wears around her neck, clutching it, downing gulp after gulp to try and numb the heartache of watching her baby be taken away from her. Yes, she remembers.

However, she isn’t sure if should say what is troubling her this time around. Not that she necessarily wants to keep that beautiful moment to herself, but that it sounds slightly insane. Dreaming about her former fiancé, kissing him, then awaking and still feeling his lips on hers. Like it hadn’t been a dream at all.

Musing this, Iduna says, “You will think I’m insane.” Ingrid tucks some of her hair behind her ear and squeezes her.

“I love insane.” Iduna can’t help but smirk at her sister. She glances around her bedroom, trying to get her lagging brain to form a coherent sentence. What she’s about to tell her sister doesn’t make that much sense already. Retelling it in a tipsy state will make it seem like a drunken tale. Taking a deep breath she begins.

“When I ran away last night, I was going to Asarja’s grave. I didn’t make it. I fainted at the edge of a clearing.” Ingrid tenses, but stays quiet. “I had this…this dream. I was sitting on the very top of a hill, looking over a fjord. The sun was setting and – and Asarja was there.” Iduna pauses for a moment, a wave of sadness hitting her. She squeezes Ingrid’s hand tightly. “It was amazing. To see him again. To…feel him. It was like he was truly there. With me. And for however long I was there everything felt like it was okay again, until it wasn’t.” She exhales a long breath.

“I let him go, Ingrid. I let Asarja go. It was the only way that we could both move on and be at peace.”

“Oh, Una.” Ingrid says sadly. Iduna smiles, though it comes out more as a grimace.

“It was what I had to do. But he knows I will _always_ love him. Even if I marry Agnarr or not. Asarja will always be in my heart…in my very soul. But that isn’t the insane part. Asarja and I kissed. And then I woke up and…and could feel my lips tingle; like…like he had just been there, and it was all real. But it wasn’t real because I was still on the edge of the clearing.” She looks at her sister. Ingrid shrugs before saying,

“You know, I read in a book once that sometimes, when people who have lost their true love dream about their other half, they can still sometimes feel them once they’ve awoken. If they’ve hugged or- or kissed like you and Asarja did.”

“You think Asarja and I had true love?” Ingrid nods, a faint smile on her lips.

“Probably would have been the greatest love story ever told had our father not been a bastard.”

_Oh yes._ Iduna thinks with pride, _we would have been the most glorious couple to have ever walked this realm._

* * *

Regina grips onto Leopold’s arm as they walk down the cobblestone path, a sweet warm breeze filling her nose. “You seem a little nervous, sweetheart.” Leopold says. The brunette clenches a fist at her side, trying to resist the urge to vomit. Nervous is an understatement. This is her first proper presentation as Leopold’s consort – well, soon to be consort – in front of Arendelle’s royal family no less.

Arendelle, according to her father, is said to be the most prosperous kingdom in the realm. King Harold, his queen, Sonja, and their children are highly revered throughout the lands. Regina never thought _this_ would be her life. She had been minor princess, living happily and freely in the countryside, far removed from this life. Suddenly she is catapulted into a position she doesn’t want, now going to face a royal family who, though apparently are inviting, intimidate her to no end.

A fluttering catches her eye. She glances up to see a flag tied to a post flying in the breeze. Purple and green split background, with a big yellow crocus in the middle. She glances to her fiancé. “Is that Arendelle’s symbol?” He hums in response.

“Yes. The Arendelle crocus. Their national flower.”

The Arendelle crocus.

The same flower carved into Seita-Astrid’s necklace.

* * *

Iduna leans on Agnarr’s forearm, feeling like death. After washing her in an ice-cold bath, Ingrid shoved half a bowl of porridge and fruit down her throat and made her chug back a glass of water to help absorb the rest of the alcohol. Now she doesn’t feel drunk, but just extremely hungover. Luckily after the King of the Southern Kingdom and his new fiancé arrive, all the presentations are done, and she can go back to her room and sleep until it’s the next day. “Are you okay?” Agnarr whispers, causing Iduna no shake her head.

“I made a big, _big_ mistake last night.” She mumbles. The conversation is cut short when the Head Guard bangs his staff on the hardwood floors, each bang pounding against Iduna’s skull.

“Your Majesties, your Highnesses. May I present King Leopold of the Southern Kingdom and his fiancé the future Queen Consort Regina, Princess of Corrine.”

* * *

Helga isn’t sure if her action of recoil is of awe, shock, or disgust.

For starters, it hadn’t been long since King Leopold’s wife, Eva, had passed away. Five, possibly six months ago? Most people usually wait a bit longer to remarry, and if Leopold and Eva’s romance was anything to go by, Helga would have placed a bet that Leopold would have waited _years_ to remarry; perhaps not even remarry at all.

Secondly, his new fiancé, Regina, looks so _young._ Leopold is only six years younger than her own father, putting him at forty. Regina looks around _Iduna’s_ age. She had heard of and seen with her own eyes much older men marrying women young enough to be their daughter, or even their granddaughter. The notion disgusted her to no end. As she looked over the young girl, who would soon be above her in rank, she couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for her.

The blonde could just tell that Regina would rather be somewhere else.

She doesn’t blame her. She doesn’t want to be here either.

But another thing Helga noticed was Regina’s beauty. She was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Her olive skin was supple, tinged with gold. Her eyes reminded her of milk chocolate and her hair was luscious, wavy, and brunette, falling nicely around her like a curtain. The blood-red lipstick she wears on her full, plump lips matches the colour of her dress. She even wears hairpins containing red rubies that pin some of her hair back.

_She’s beautiful._

“Your Majesty.” Leopold says, removing Helga from her trance for just a moment.

* * *

Regina curtseys to the royal family, her eyes never leaving the ground. She can feel a stare piercing her face, intently studying her every detail. Luckily, she can play the part of a confident young princess, completely unaware of the judgement no doubt silently passing between the family members. With grace and ease, just like she had been taught over and over again, she returns to her full height, her arm once again slipping through Leopold’s.

“Leopold. How wonderful to see you.” The Queen says in greeting. Regina glances up at her fiancé. Though her face shows adoration, inside she wants nothing more than to rip that smile off his face.

“Your Majesty. I know the last time we crossed paths the occasion wasn’t one of celebration.” Leopold says sadly, and Regina has to fight the scowl that wants to show on her lips. _Eva’s funeral no doubt._ She thinks bitterly. Because that’s all Leopold can talk about. Eva. His dead wife. “But now I believe congratulations are in order.”

Regina smiles as she looks to Princess Iduna and Agnarr, the next Duke of Uxtan. She curtseys timidly. “Congratulations, your Highness, your Grace.” She coos demurely, her voice soft and melodious. The princess opens her mouth to speak but King Harold says,

“Their engagement isn’t the only one in need of celebration. May I enquire when the wedding will be?”

“July this coming following year, Your Majesty.” Regina answers, her mouth turning slightly dry. Less than 11 months of freedom left.

“We look forward to it,” Sonja smiles. “We can hopefully talk more at the ball tomorrow.” The brunette sees Iduna stiffen in her peripheral view. She looks in her direction, feigning just an innocent glance, but the curiosity is rising in her.

Because when the princess gives her a gentle smile,

It looks very familiar.

* * *

“And you haven’t told him what we talked about yesterday?”

“Ingrid. I fell asleep at three that afternoon and woke up at four this morning. How could I have talked to him?” Iduna snaps.

“How could you be in such a foul mood? You slept for thirteen hours.” Ingrid comments, flicking some of her hair behind her shoulder. Iduna grumbles a string of curses under her breath. It was the hours _after_ she awoke that put in this stupor. Her encounter with Asarja, that _little moment_ with Agnarr, how she’ll have to tell Agnarr about Seita-Astrid eventually, Seita-Astrid herself. They all just occupied her every thought process.

She had assumed that after she let Asarja ‘move to the next life’, things would seem clearer, that she might actually be able to start living again; her every move and breath wouldn’t be swallowed up by grief. But instead her path just seems even more hazy than it had been before.

“Princess Ingrid.”

The two sisters turn to see Ewa walking towards them. Iduna smiles at their old nurse.

“Hello Ewa.” Ingrid says softly.

“Princess Ingrid. Your Mother has asked that you meet her in her study at once.” Ewa says, ignoring Ingrid’s greeting. Iduna can feel a slight drop in temperature. She grabs the blonde’s hand, giving in a reassuring squeeze.

“Did Mother say she must come to her alone?” The older woman gives a curt nod. Iduna sighs sharply. “Very well.” She turns to her sister. Though Ingrid’s face is neutral, her pale hand visibly shakes in hers. Iduna stands in front of Ingrid, clutching her other hand. “Inge. Look at me.”

Ingrid’s eyes slide to meet her hazel ones. They shimmer in the late morning sun. “I will wait for you in the library. In your favourite little corner. We can talk then.”

“Promise?” Ingrid rasps out. Iduna gives her the biggest smile she can muster.

“I promise.”

* * *

Ingrid follows Ewa to her mother’s study. She stuffs her hands into her armpits, trying to get them to stop shaking. It was rare that Ingrid ever visit either of her parents’ studies. And it was rare that any time she did, that the outcome was good.

Too quickly for her liking, the pair stop outside the door, her mother’s monogram carved into the wood. Ingrid nods towards the black-haired woman beside her. “Th-Thank you, Ewa. That will be a-all.” She stammers. Ewa lingers a moment, looking at her old charge worriedly. Ingrid takes a deep breath and brings a hand up to knock on the door. She looks to Ewa, giving a shaky grimace. “I’ll be fine, Ewa. Take your leave.”

She watches as the at the older woman scurries off. She slowly twists back to the door. A muffled, _“Come in, Ingrid.”_ Comes quietly through the door.

She takes a deep breath and enters.

* * *

Without warning, hands wrap around each of Ingrid’s wrists. Their skinny fingers, pointy with bone, dig into her flesh and Ingrid hisses in pain. She unscrews her eyes and meets those of her Mother. She opens her mouth to question what is happening, but a pain shooting up her legs makes a whimper come out instead. She collapses to the floor, falling hard on her knees. Someone else in the room clears their throat.

Ingrid glances to her left. Out of the darkest corner of her mother’s study, her father appears, and it takes all of her willpower to simply glance disinterestedly to the grey metal urn he has tucked under his arm. Her eyes slide up to meet his. Those pale blue eyes that him and Helga share, but his are soulless, dark and cold. Hers always shimmer with happiness or mischief or love.

The same but so, so different.

“I find it very hurtful that you would keep something as special as this hidden from me, Inge.” Her father says, feigning hurt. Ingrid’s body physically recoils at the utterance of her nickname on his tongue. It somehow feels slimy. Despite her throat feeling like it will close up on her, she responds coolly,

“An urn? Why would you be so hurt that I kept an _urn_ from you?” Her father slowly stalks towards her, a predatory glare set on her.

“But it isn’t _just_ an urn, is it?”

“Oh but it is, Father. I’m sorry to disappoint you even more than I already ha-”

Her words are knocked out of her as his fist connects with her jaw. She swallows the pain, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt.

“You are a lying. Little. Bitch.” Her father mutters, shaking his head disapprovingly. “After all I’ve done for you-”

“All you’ve done. For me?” Ingrid scoffs, ignoring the taste of iron on her tongue. “What exactly have you done for me, except hide me away, make me out to be some monster.”

“I’m pretty sure you did that to yourself.” Ingrid shakes her head.

“No. You played a big role in it you sadistic bastard. Locking me in a prison cell for weeks, torturing me for hours. You think _that_ is something to gloat about? Abusing your own child? And look where that got you. _Nowhere._ ” She spits. Harold laughs, the sound spiked with menace. A shiver rakes itself down Ingrid’s spine.

“What happened to that meek, _pathetic,_ daughter of mine, huh? You barely open your mouth, even to your sisters, who have to put up with you and this…burden.” He says, gesturing to her. He walks towards the desk with a small shrug. “Guess it’s not entirely surprising why Iduna ratted you out then.”

Ingrid snaps her head up, eyes fixed on her father’s back. “What?” she grits through her bared teeth. An innocent look spreads across Harold’s face.

“Well, you didn’t think I just found this, do you? Someone would have to had told me where it was.”

“You expect me to believe that Iduna told _you_ about a trashy little urn?”

He whirls on his heels, the urn clanking to the floor. Within seconds, the air is completely knocked from her lungs as the tip of his boot collides with her ribs. The crack makes one of the guard’s flinch slightly. He grips her chin between his calloused fingers. Her ribs scream in pain, but Ingrid chokes it down. She wouldn’t be a coward. Not now.

“You’re about to be wiped from existence, yet you still choose to be insolent?” Quivering from effort and pain, Ingrid slowly gets to her knees, holding his gaze. She gets close enough that his breath feels hot against her cheeks.

“I’m choosing to not be a coward,” She growls, “I’m choosing to let you know that what you’re about to do will grant you an early place at Satan’s table.”

* * *

Sonja sits on her throne, watching over the guests in attendance with silent observation. Her hazel eyes fall on her husband. She watches as he moves from person to person, joking and laughing. If he saw a certain lady, his eyes wander her, examine her like some sort of prize. She sighs deeply. This wasn’t the life she had envisioned when she first stepped into Arendelle at sixteen.

When her dying mother had arranged for her to marry Harold – a prince at the time – and they both fell deeply in love with each other, she expected that love and the loyalty that came with it to stay until death separated them. She saw a future within a castle full of light and warmth. A castle where the maids and footmen and nurses were family, where uptight court tradition was forgotten when it was just the family in residence. 

That was what flashed through her young, naive mind.

And now fast forward. She has three daughters, all so beautiful and kind, but underneath that pretence, there is an ever-growing hatred brewing. Towards her and her husband. Their parents.

Her eyes land on Iduna, who smiles widely at Agnarr as they twirl amongst the jewels and music.

She had failed her.

That curdling scream, the sobs of denial. They echo in her ears whenever she just glances in Iduna’s direction. She could have stopped him. The night before Asarja’s murder when her husband showed a rare moment of humility. She could have persuaded that dark, twisted mind of his that what he was about to do, what he had done already, had destroyed his daughter.

But she stayed silent.

Then she catches Helga talking with Princess Regina in the corner of the Ballroom. She sees that smile she secretly wished she could see more often.

She had failed her too.

Helga wanted nothing to do with the throne, even from early on. She hides her smile behind her fan as she recalls what little Helga would always say when jokingly corrected her.

_“No, Mama! This is Ingrid, the heir and Iduna is the spare!”_

If Ingrid was the daughter who loved to read and learn how to rule, Helga was the daughter who picked up a book when specifically told and would hide in the forest to escape etiquette lessons.

Sonja had the opportunity to avoid change that too. When Helga burst into her bedroom, sobbing so hard she could barely get what Harold had done passed her lips. She had stormed straight to his study, not caring if defying her husband was improper. She was ready to fight for Helga, to tell Harold that he had gone too far. And there she stood, ready to tear into the wicked man who sat behind the desk.

But she stayed silent, leaving before she could even knock on the door.

The music fades into nothing as her mind wanders down the archaic stone steps, worn from centuries of use and down a dimly lit hall. To that one singular cell. Where Ingrid lays atop a thin and poorly made ‘bed’ of hay. Unconscious. Bleeding. Her Inge.

The one she failed the most.

In the early months of discovering Ingrid’s powers, Sonja was terrified of her. She couldn’t even go near her, scared that she might…freeze her or slash her with shards of ice. It was stupid to even think that. She hadn’t even considered if Ingrid was possibly scared of _herself._ She didn’t even dare consider the thought that her and Harold caused her to be fearful of herself. Because then that wall she built up, made from bricks of indifference and coldness, would come crashing down.

But when her daughters thought she couldn’t hear, their giggles and laughs resonated through the castle. Ingrid would turn the very room she sits in into a winter wonderland. Ice for skating, snow for crafting snowmen and snowball fights. And every night she heard those sweet laughs, one by one, a brick came lose and fell.

Until this very moment, where the wall is officially gone, as the burden of her failure is crushing her chest.

The music returns.

Sonja lifts her fan to hide the tears that slowly trickles down her cheek.

* * *

The ball seems like miles away. The music, the chatter. She has to hold her breath just to hear it. She can imagine her sisters in the ballroom, dancing, eating, completely unaware that she’s down here in this rotting hung of rock. Good. She doesn’t want them to see this. She doesn’t want them to be as heartbroken as they will be.

Her father had been ‘oh so generous’ and left her with some paper and a pencil to write letters to them. ‘Final Letters’ he had called them. The only problem was that Harold had broken her hand, stamping on it numerous times, shouting that she was cursed by the Devil himself. So as she lay crying on the cold floor, clutching her swollen and throbbing hand, her _Mother_ wrote the letters for her. But she made sure to double check that the woman had written everything as _she_ had said them.

But that was hours ago. The one tiny window etched out of the stone gives her a glimpse of the clear night, the stars twinkling above her. No more sun, the day is gone, finished.

And so is her time amongst the living.

Her throat begins to ache as the one eye that isn’t swollen shut begins to burn and fill with silent tears. She wants to be strong, to swallow the fear and hold it in. She supposes she could blame the tears on the pain. From her – most likely – broken rib, the punch to her jaw that throbs whenever she talks, the long gash down her arm that her father had traced a vein wondering where the ‘devil’s magic’ had come from.

And then the blow from the hide of the guard’s sword that completely knocked her out.

But Ingrid is an honest woman. She’s terrified. Rumpelstiltskin didn’t specify what would happen to her if she were put in the urn. She doesn’t know if she’d be roasted alive in an urn of flames if she’ll confront all her past demons. She has no idea, but she wants to know, just so she could prepare herself. Try to make herself as comfortable as she could in her new life.

Ingrid’s breath hitches. Footsteps echo against the stone, and the torches cast shadows that dance along the wall. With a groan of pain, she sits up, her head violently spinning. Her blurry vision can make the outline of two soldiers approaching her little cell.

One holds the urn.

“Just get th-this over w-with.” She breathes, the overwhelming pain making her want to be sick. One of the soldiers shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Do you…do you have any last words?” He asks, and Ingrid laughs. He sounds upset; dare she even say pitiful. The blonde exhales brokenly.

“Just tell my sisters I love them. And tell Iduna that she shouldn’t feel guilty. Please.” She begs, her voice cracking.

“As you wish.”

He opens the top.

For a second everything stills.

Without warning, violent winds thrashes around them. The dim light extinguishes without even a crackle. The guards are thrown to the ground. But the cell doesn’t turn into a sucking black void. Dazzling blue light, blinding and flashing pulsates in a ball in the middle of the cell. The guards throw their arms over their eyes, but Ingrid allows her eyes to slip closed. Her limbs are liquified and pulled and twisted into silver gloop.

She’s not even a person anymore.

She’s sucked further and further into the urn. Ingrid puts up no fight. She lets the magic pull her in. Swirling and swirling, the silence grows deafening. The nothingness, all black and empty swallows her up. But it doesn’t spit her back out. Here she remains.

Princess Ingrid of Arendelle is no more.


	15. The Aftermath

**TWO MONTHS LATER**

Iduna never thought she’d be in this position. In her own study, writing notes out of a book on trade embargos. A study which had once been Helga’s. Once been Ingrid’s. A seat on the right-hand side of her father in The Chamber, watching old men argue until their faces were red. That had been Helga’s and Ingrid’s too. A lot of what she has now was theirs.

She sets her fountain pen down, needing to just sit there. She could go on a walk or a ride on North-Star, but she doesn’t want to risk bumping into her parents. The temptation of letting their blood stain her dresses too high. Iduna chuckles lowly at the thought. Since Agnarr had stormed back to Uxtan for however long, the leash which tethered her some sort of sanity had snapped. Her mind now wandered in a state of hopelessness and murder.

_They need to die. They all need to burn._

To her, it seems the only way she’d be able to breathe properly again. If they were gone. Permanently. All the men who helped her father, that whore, Madeline. All of them gone, their lifeless bodies swinging in the chilled breeze from the gallows. But not her father’s. Harold’s body would roast on spit while he still clung to life.

A knock echoes in the silent study. Iduna glares at the door, not saying anything for a moment. She doesn’t like to be disturbed when in her study. The only people allowed to enter are Ewa, Gerda, and Agnarr.

“I-Iduna?”

The princess leaps to her feet, her fountain pen hitting the wall behind. She struts towards the door and flings it open; a splintering of wood being heard. Sonja steps back, letting out a frightened gasp. Iduna looks her up and down. “This better be important Mother I’m busy.” She grits out. The Queen gives her a wary look.

“Sweetheart, you’re always busy. Why not take a stroll in the garden or-”

“I would but I have lots to catch up on. How can I rule with no knowledge of the subject? Ingrid could have helped me, but as you know she’s…occupied.”

“I’m worried about you Iduna.” The princess’s eyes begin to glow.

“ _Now?”_ Iduna seethes, “You give a shit about me _now?_ Why not when I grovelled at your feet, six months pregnant begging you to change that man’s mind? Why not when I had to watch a pair of strangers walk off with _my_ daughter? MINE!” She’s heaving now, the anger flowing within her is uncontained. “You’re only worried because you know you’re too deep in your fuck ups. You know that whatever relationship you had with any of us is gone.”

Her mother let’s out a whimper. Smirking, Iduna slowly wraps her fingers around Sonja’s wrist. She digs her nails into the woman’s pale flesh, her grip so hard that pain flashes across hazel eyes. “Do you feel that Mother?” she whispers, “This is what Ingrid felt. This pain and more. While we all waltzed and laughed. She was alone in that cell. Alone. Afraid. Broken and beaten. Imagine allowing your daughter to feel that?”

The waterline of Sonja’s eyes turn silver. She swallows, her breaths ragged as she leans further away from Iduna. She shakes her head slowly. “M-My child. What has happened to you?” Iduna glowers at the coward trembling in front of her. Without a word, her hand releases the bony wrist and slams into the Queen’s shoulder, causing her to fly backwards and slams into the wall.

“Never come by here again unless you have information of use to me.”

The door slams and Iduna returns to her desk. She allows herself to be absorbed by the rhythm of reading and copying.

She smiles gently as she tries to ignore the giggles of the little girl who plays with her toys beside her.

~

The blonde glances over her shoulder, looking into the glowing sunset. Her eyes instinctively look north-east. The direction of her broken home. A home that she had wanted to escape from for years. She had wanted to escape the weight of the overbearing responsibility that would have eventually come with her crown. A crown she would no longer wear. That was Iduna’s burden now.

But just that thought is enough to make guilt curl in Helga’s stomach. Despite always saying how she wanted nothing to do with being queen, she would have done her duty when it came down to it. She could have even given the crown to Ingrid.

Ingrid.

Grief suddenly falls upon her. The blonde’s limbs grow heavy and that damn lump begins clogging up her throat. But she wouldn’t cry. She knows deep down that Ingrid would have been brave. She would have faced what she did with her head held high. So she will do the same. She will carry on her search for Alexios Knoll with her shoulders back and chin up.

She will carry on until Ingrid is avenged.

~

“Easy boy, easy.” Helga says to Orion. She slows her black Friesian horse as the outer wall protecting Xanhus comes into view. The main square was known as the City of Parties. Where Alexios Knoll lived most of the year. Helga allows the chilly night air to cool her burning skin. She always hated how she would burn up when she got nervous. Her body language might not show her anxiousness, but her red cheeks and sweat beading at her hairline does.

Or that she has some fever. Her go to excuse.

As Orion begins to trot down the small hill, the faint sound of music and shouting rises from Xanhus’s taverns. The princess flinches. Drunkards. Lots of them by the sounds of it. The act of visiting a tavern isn’t a problem for Helga. It’s the _people_ who swell in those places. Especially at this time. She doesn’t feel like having to beat up some inebriated men. Especially when doing something as important as this. Finding a way which – if all goes according to plan – will secure a much better future. For her and her sisters. For Arendelle.

She stops her horse just outside the square stone wall. Helga dismounts, hair falling out of her loose bun with the impact. She stares through the archway, the cobblestones lit up by the chandeliers glowing inside the five or six taverns on Main Street. Her mother’s voice rings in her ears.

_Back straight and chin up. You’re a princess. You should carry grace but also confidence as you glide._

Helga scoffs. Fuck Grace and fuck gliding.

She lifts the dark purple hood over her head, shrouding her face in darkness. She grabs Orion’s leathery reigns and begins to guide him through the archway and into Xanhus. She steps into a swagger and carries on up the hill,

Closer to extinguishing the fiery hell she lives in.


	16. Tough Conversations

Helga throws another cashew into her mouth, eyes glazed over from boredom. They’ve been in here for four hours. Alexios Knoll and his men. All gathered round a small round table by the corner of the Starlight Inn, _her_ corner. And not once have they spoken of the ‘grand plot’ to kill her father. Haven’t even breathed a word of it. They were in here two hours yesterday and three the day before. Not a word of the plot then either. 

The blonde wondered if they knew she was listening in on their hushed conversations.

She shifts in her seat, her stomach rumbling. Just another few minutes. If they don’t talk about it in the next few minutes, she’ll leave and return to the townhouse she rented. Make some proper food. Sucking in a breath, her eyes roam the tap room. She looks at all the men who play cards and smoke, drink until their faces are red or they’re slumped in their chairs. How they all don’t have a care in the word. _Must be nice_ – Helga sighs in her mind. Her gaze then trails on some of the portraits that hang in one straight line around the whole perimeter of the floor.

Helga clenches her fist as she tries to hold in her cringe. She recognises some of the generals and lords. She’s talked to some of them. Argued with some of them. The people here have probably only dreamed of getting a glance at them, she’s almost ripped some of their throats out because of their stupidity. The worlds they all live in. The same, but somehow completely dissimilar. Not that anyone here would know. Her cloak shrouds her in mystery.

Her stomach begins to groan in protest. With a frustrated sigh, Helga turns her attention back onto the group, eating another cashew to try and stop her insides from complaining. And just in time to hear a brown-haired man ask lowly,

“And what of the plans with Matthias?”

* * *

Agnarr collapses into the chair, legs like jelly and chest on fire. Though he feels like shit, he needed that run. Along the Osertion Cliffs, the mix of rain and sea slapping and stinging his face. To feel the cold mud hit is legs. To clear this mind of his. This constantly working, confused mind.

He has been home, in Uxtan, for almost two months. He had told Iduna that he needed to sort some things out before making Arendelle his more permanent home. And he did. Changing the succession laws, look at the funds and trade to see how he could improve them on his own since his father had no interest in doing so. Making sure that things would improve for Uxtan. When he would be made King of Arendelle and his future wife would also bare the title as Duchess of Uxtan. When they would help his duchy to prosper.

But he’d also needed to leave Arendelle. Staying in that castle, with Iduna, was suffocating him.

A faint knock sounds through the door. “Enter.” Agnarr calls. The door opens and a head with jet black hair pokes through, grey eyes narrowed in questioning. Agnarr lets out a breathy laugh as he signals for Oscar to join him. One of his acquaintances. The other man lets out a chuckle. “I hope this doesn’t offend you, but you look like utter shit.”

“I feel like it, too.” Oscar walks to the window, putting his arms behind his back as he looks out to the coastline.

“Something weighs on your mind.” He says quietly.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Not even two weeks ago, I received your letter. It was glowing about how beautiful the princess is and how you’ve never fallen in love so fast. And now you’re back here, moping around and more miserable than your father. A feat in itself.” Agnarr glances to his friend who still looks out the window. He sighs harshly.

“I guess I forgot one important detail in that letter.” Oscar now turns to him, eyebrows raised.

“Oh?”

“It seems the princess and her family have quite a few secrets.”

* * *

That’s the codeword.

Helga slowly gets to her feet. She needs to stay longer, but she can’t just sit there. Re-positioning her cloak, she heads to the bar and orders wine. Giving her thanks, she returns to her little table, swirling the glass around, holding it up to the light to check it isn’t diluted with water. She won’t be drinking any cheap shit. Placing her glass down, she rolls her shoulders and then plops back down into her seat, getting as comfortable as she can on the hard wooden seat.

“Why not the Christmas Ball?” one of the men proposes, “He’ll be passed out, his wife will be as well. Enter through the window and give a little flick of the knife across his throat. It could be a little present from us.”

Helga swallows her snigger.

Her parents haven’t shared a bed since Iduna was born. Sonja hasn’t touched a sip of alcohol in years. _What amateurs._

“I don’t agree.” Helga watches him, the youngest of the bunch. “I thought we agreed that there would be no other casualties.”

“There wouldn’t be.”

“The men stationed outside the King and Queen’s chambers. They’ll be swinging within hours.”

“But you know me, Brandon,” A husky voice laughs, “I like to put on a show.” Helga cocks her head to the side. Alexios Knoll. Leader of the Dragon Rebels. “I’ll keep that idea tucked away. Who knows. We may need to bring a little of our own ‘Christmas Magic’ to the royals.” The group smirk at each other, some even chuckling behind their mug of ale. Helga rolls her eyes. _These_ people are the most notorious gaggle of rebels in Arendelle? The ones who wish to put Iduna on the -

Iduna.

Helga pushes the guilt down before it can consume her as it has done some nights.

Iduna. Her sister who is not even nineteen.

They might not even know Helga is no longer Crown Princess.

Knocking back the rest of her wine, she stretches a leg out under the table, laying a hand across her arm, her fingers dancing over the hilt of her dagger. She clears her throat as she says with a calm voice,

“I wouldn’t be that foolish if I were you.”

* * *

Agnarr winces as the fight he and Iduna had replays in his mind. The words that were exchanged, most not even truthful. He rubs his temple. “The Princess and I had a little…argument.”

“I don’t think it was a ‘little argument’ if you’ve returned just to spend time away from her.” Oscar comments, which causes Agnarr’s frown to deepen. Oscar now fully turns to face him. Agnarr lets out a long exhale.

“The Princess was in love in before we met. She had another fiancé.” Oscar keeps his face neutral. “He was a member of an indigenous group who have lived in Arendelle for centuries. The Northuldra. Their relationship was forbidden. The hate either side had for each other was – is mutual. But to them that didn’t matter. They loved each other so much that they were willing to risk it.”

“I’m sorry, you are mad at her for being in love?” Agnarr scoffs as he gives his acquaintance a sour look.

“No! We can’t control who we fall in love with, we are human. But you should hear the way she talks about him. Like the greatest thing to ever exist.”

“He probably was for her at some point.”

“Yes, well, that point has passed, hasn’t it?”

“Not necessarily. Will there ever a point where you stop mourning your mother and hating Rita?” Agnarr glares at his acquaintance.

“You know why that point will never come.” Oscar doesn’t respond. The duke says nothing either, the words to finish his sentence dying on his lips.

_Because he murdered my mother to be with Rita._

“I think you are worried. You are worried that you will be held to his standards by the Princess.”

“And make the woman I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with miserable? Yes I’m absolutely terrified.” Agnarr says truthfully, worry curling in his gut. “I have no qualms with her missing him and still loving him. At least…the rational side of me doesn’t. The irrational side says that you will never be good enough for her. That you’ll spend the rest of your remaining years being compared to a man who she was in love with for two years.” _But those two years meant everything to her._

“And not mention her daughter.” Agnarr mutters, but Oscar’s eyes widen.

“Princess Iduna has an illegitimate child?”

“Yes. A child that can’t even be talked about in that castle without the fear of hanging from the gallows. So you mustn’t tell a _soul._ She had a daughter, with this previous fiancé. She hadn’t even told me, her _sister_ did. When she was drunk.”

“So…are you more upset that she _has_ a child or that she chose not to _tell_ you that she has a child?” Agnarr throughs his arms up in exasperation.

“I don’t know.” Agnarr says sharply, getting onto his feet despite his legs’ protests, “I think no matter how I phrase it I’ll sound like a scumbag. I just…wish she had told me _something._ About the child.”

“But you’ve only known the princess for two weeks.”

“So? We are engaged after knowing each other for two weeks.” Oscar shakes his head.

“I think being used as a political pawn is a bit different from talking about something that was probably very traumatic and upsetting.” Agnarr snaps his eyes to the other man across from him.

“I know it is hurtful when secrets are kept from you, but I think Princess Iduna was simply waiting for the right time to discuss it. Perhaps even waiting for when she was _ready_ to discuss it.” Agnarr scrubs at his face, the sudden weight of guilt beginning to press down on him.

“Her sister also told me this fiancé was murdered. On order by the King once he found out about the pregnancy.” Silence falls over the study. Oscar blanches. Agnarr plops back down into the chair.

_“Iduna you don’t even fucking know that thing! You had it for a few hours and then it got taken from you! Why do you miss it or even care about it! It’s not like you’ll ever see her again!”_

A phantom pain tingles his cheek. He can almost feel the sting of the slap that his foolishness granted him.

A slap he deserved.

* * *

She watches as Alexios Knoll slowly turns to her, amber eyes twinkling with curiosity. She leans forward on the table while Knoll leans over the back of his chair. “And why exactly not?”

“The princess is only eighteen. There are three more years before she comes of age. If you kill the King now, who knows what hell would erupt in that time before she can officially take the throne.”

Alexios lowers his head, trying to glimpse into the hood. Helga stretches her arms and leans back into the shadowy corner, feigning a yawn. Though her voice isn’t known, her face is. Her eyes land on the portrait of her family, hair in place, best jewels on, red sashes hanging down their front. 

She wants nothing more than to slash through her parents faces with the dagger.

“Listen, Alexios, is it?” She says, her eyes taking in every detail of his features, “I want the King dead as much as you do but have a little humility. Princess Iduna is going through some shit right now and quite frankly, I don’t want a blubbering, spoilt brat taking the throne, do you?”

She rolls her shoulders, trying to hide the cringe rippling through her as she stands.

_Please don’t let her find out I called her that -_ she silently prays. The rebel leader says nothing. Exhaling sharply, she steps around the table and up to where Alexios sits. She leans in, the point of her dagger digging into the man’s thigh.

“If you want an ally who will _guarantee_ that the king dies and not some phony who will lead you straight to the gallows,” she proposes, her voice almost drowned out by the music, “Go to the abandoned mansion on the top of the hill. At midnight.”

Like Death reincarnate she glides out of the tavern, her black cape billowing around her, determined to help her father’s soul take its rightful place at Satan’s table.

* * *

Helga takes another bite of the apple, fighting back a moan at the sweet taste. The first proper thing she’s eaten in a few days. She continues to wander through the crumbling ruins of the mansion, trying to picture what it would have looked like. How freeing it would have been to have a big house sat upon a hill, being able to look out to the surrounding hills and forests and sprawled out cottages.

She freezes in front of a lone standing pillar. The crunch of dry vegetation. She chucks the apple, her hand immediately gripping her dagger. With a side-step she is behind the tall block of carved white stone.

A huff. “Do you think she’ll even be here?” Helga’s eyebrows furrow. That wasn’t Alexios. It was the younger man he had joked with back in the tavern. Brandon. A dry laugh.

“If she was smart she will be. I think she knows better than to play someone as powerful as me.” Helga returns the laugh, coming out from behind the pillar.

“Well you certainly are powerful, Alexios. Powerful indeed.” She purrs.

* * *

Alexios Knoll jerks his head to the side with consideration, with intrigue. It was very rare for anyone to step forward and offer their services, to aid in murder. In the murder of the King of Arendelle no less.

“Who told you that Master Knoll would be in the tavern this night?” Brandon asks from behind him.

“No one.” she replies with a shrug, “I’ve been tracking you and your party of idiots for the last few weeks.”

“For someone who seems to want in on the glory” Alexios says, “You don’t seem to be one for flattery. I only except kind people into my groups of rebels.”

“I don’t want this glory you speak of. I just want the job done. _Efficiently._ ” Alexios smiles faintly.

“It is rare that I come across women who are so…invested into the tales of me and my band of men. They usually come to me for…other enquiries.”

“Yes, well, a vain bastard such as yourself is the last person I’d ever want to fuck.” She nods, “I just came to offer you some inside knowledge. Some advice.”

“Master Knoll doesn’t need advice.” Brandon warns.

“I doubt that,” She says. Alexios can hear the smirk in her voice. “I think these outlandish plans that you are rumoured to come up with are purely so you can show off what you’ve done. You considering the plan proposed is a perfect example. I thought you boasted brains as well as looks, _Master_ Knoll.”

“And I do.” Alexios firmly, not appreciating this woman’s taunting. 

“Then listen to what I have to say.” She demands, taking another step towards them. Brandon goes to reach for the long sword strapped to his back, but Alexios holds his arm out in pause.

She removes the hood of cloak.

And Alexios is rendered speechless as Princess Helga standing before him, her blonde hair twinkling in the moonlight.

* * *

“P-Princess Helga.” Brandon stutters, giving a bow. Helga rolls her eyes.

“Please. Helga is just fine.” She looks to Alexios who seems to be stunned into silence. She smirks at him. “Is there something wrong, Knoll?” the leader still snaps his gaze up to hers. His mouth opens and closes. Not a word, not a sound. Brandon pushes in front of him, staring her down.

“You know about the rebels?”

“I do. But my family don’t seem to.” She doesn’t let her eyes leave his, a brilliant jade green. “But enough of this gawking. The plan that was proposed. Scrap it. Don’t attempt it.”

“Why?”

“My parents haven’t shared a bed since the Crown Princess was born and the Queen doesn’t drink. She’s quite the insomniac. You try breaking in through anything, my mother will hear it.”

“And you think I will be taking advice from you, do you _Helga?”_ Alexios finally asks, giving her a wary look.

“I do. Because your ego is getting in the way of you thinking straight. You need a way, a _covert_ way of killing him. And for some reason that isn’t getting through to you.”

“Well if that’s the case then what would you suggest we do to kill your father?” Helga turns back to Brandon, unsheathing her dagger as she runs her finger along the glistening blade.

“What’s that saying? About how you – oh!” She licks her lips then gives him a devilish grin. His throat bobs.

She begins to strut towards the men, eyes roaming over their bodies. She stops just inches away. She traces her dagger of Knoll’s leather-clad chest.

“You are probably much more knowledgeable than me, Knoll. So I suggest you pick your _poison._ ”


	17. Facing Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy March everyone! ❤🍀

_Ingrid just wants to hug her. Hug her, soothe her, help her to escape. But she can’t. To the trembling blonde shacked to the middle of the floor, Ingrid is simply a ghost in the shadows. She watches helplessly as the blonde sits on the ground, dark red stains circling her. Her greasy, limp hair covers her face, almost like some poor curtain of protection. “It’s okay.” She whispers fruitlessly, “It’s okay.” She braces her own trembling hands on the damp, freezing wall, trying to hide in the corner when she hears footsteps. Multiple footsteps._

_“W-What did you do to her?” A broken voice, raspy and low. She turns and inhales sharply, her eyes glazing over. Helga._

_“What we needed to do.” A shiver takes hold of Ingrid’s body. Just the sound of Harold’s voice can send all of her bravery running._ Perhaps I am coward.

_“You did not need to do all of…this. Look at her she’s hurt.”_

_“I think we know what is best for her dear.” She slowly shakes her head as if Sonja can somehow see her._

_But Ingrid can see Sonja. See that uncertainty, that regret, flashing over her face, dulling her eyes. She can see remorse. Remorse she could have used to help her. To help her beaten, broken child._

_“I-Inge?” Her chest tightens. A voice so young yet so worried and scared. “Inge are you…are you alright?” She sees Iduna, her eyes lined silver and bottom lip trembling. Her cheeks still round and eyes still large from childhood. Because she was still a child. She was eleven. Helga was thirteen and she –_

_A whimper rises from the ground. Ingrid winces as metal scrapes across stone. With laboured breaths she watches as she, as Ingrid, slowly lifts her head, her strands of hair - matted and speckled with dried blood - fall from her face. “Wh-Why? Why b-bring them?” Is all she gets out through bruised and cut up lips. Harold smiles wickedly. Her eyes then trail to her younger sisters, who stare at her with horror and sadness and anger. She does her best to smile._

_“Father, she needs a doctor! She’s hurt!” Iduna says with alarm rushing to the iron bars of the cell. She reaches a small hand through the gaps._

_“Iduna, no.” Their mother chastises, laying her hands on her youngest’s shoulders to move her away. The red head digs her feet into the ground, shrugging the hands off._

_“Inge! Take my hand. Helga and I will take you to the infirmary.”_

_“I can’t leave right now Una. We haven’t finished the tests.” Ingrid swallows thickly as she sees that trembling, pained smile._

_“Well I think these tests should stop. You don’t look very well.”_

_“Well sometimes tests are very hard. Both on the brain and the body. But I promise when you see me I will be as good as new.” Iduna shakes her head._

_“But you are really hurt.”_

_“Then I think we will need a lot of chocolate and stories and cuddles to make me feel better won’t we?” The younger her jokes. Iduna’s hand goes limp, a little sniffling. Ingrid gives a loving smile before whispering to her, “Be brave my little lion. Be brave.” Unshed tears gather at Iduna’s waterline, but she displays a big smile. Helga then wraps a protective arm across Iduna’s front. Her face, though puffy and red, is stone. Her frown is deep, and eyes are empty. Dull and lifeless._

_“I’ll protect her. Until you return.” Is all Helga whispers before turning around and guiding Iduna away. Their footsteps grow quieter._

_And then they cannot be heard._

_And she watches her younger self collapse into a heap on the floor, sobs echoing off the walls._

* * *

Regina’s sobs ring through the thick forest, flocks of birds startling and fleeing from the treetops. Rocinante stands by her, nudging her every so often. A little comfort. Comfort she needed. Comfort she craved. The brunette feels like she might be sick. Her head is pounding, her chest is aching, and her stomach is twisted into knots. Tight, suffocating knots.

She brings her hand up to her cheek, shaky fingers gliding over the burning and sticky flesh. She winces as her hand touches an open wound and at the remembrance of Leopold’s broken _‘Regina’_ as he realised what he had done.

And as she had realised, confirmed, who his heart truly belongs to.

She inhales deeply trying to reign herself in. Hours had passed since she had fled. Leopold will no doubt send out a search party for her. Cora will probably sniff her out first though, reprimanding her daughter for ‘ _not taking it’._ Some nights, Regina lay awake next to her husband, wondering how she had been birthed of that witch. A witch with no heart. A space that greed and hatred fill.

Soft cries still leave her lips as she gets onto her knees, hands digging into her thighs. _Big breath in. big breath out._ She follows that small little voice, urging herself to repress all the tears she has left. That small little voice always knew what to do. How to comfort her. How to help her. Like a mother. And Regina usually listened to the whisper more than Cora.

_Enough thought of her._ Regina agrees. She instead puts her mind to willing her heavy limbs to work so she can go somewhere. Anywhere. She would go to the Munde cottage, but she can’t help but feel a slight reservation towards them. Seita-Astrid was royalty. _Arendellian_ royalty. Yet they didn’t trust Regina enough to inform her. Who did she even have to tell? Who could she even tell? Not many people were willing to listen to her.

Regina pushes all of that out of her mind. She can deliberate over that well into the night. She won’t be sleeping tonight.

Finally, the future Queen props herself up against the trunk of a tree, panting from the effort.

But her chest grows still as someone clears their throat,

And her eyes sparkling with fear meet forest green eyes, sparking with curiosity and concern.

* * *

_Her father slithers into the cell, eyes glittering with hunger like a wolf circling its wounded prey. The younger Ingrid continues to sob and choke in a puddle of satin and greasy tresses and dried blood on the hard stone ground. Ingrid - trapped and reliving this hellish nightmare – rubs at her aching temple. She has no recollection of these events at all. Maybe her mind repressed it to protect her. Or because the pain and fear was so great, her brain just couldn’t process all of this…torture._

_But all is forgotten when she notices Something gleam. Pale evening sun shines through the small crack near the ceiling, a poor execution of a window._

_Ingrid freezes as she spots the dagger. She wants to beg him, to scream at him, to stop all of this. But she can’t. Her voice will go unnoticed. “H-Harold? What do you plan on doing with that?” Sonja asks uncertainly. Harold shrugs._

_“I need a little blood sample.”_

_And the young girl’s shrill cry bellows deep from within her as he digs the dagger into her flesh and drags it down her arm. Ingrid collapses helplessly as she watches her younger self try to scramble away, red staining the cream-coloured nightdress she wears. “Harold! Harold please!” Sonja begs. He doesn’t pay his wife any attention. He stalks over to her and his foot slams into her chest, knocking the girl onto her back. Her head thuds heavily against the stone ground._

_Her breaths are laboured and wet. Ingrid, sobbing, crawls over to her younger self, her own arm suddenly beginning to throb. “W-Why?” she rasps out, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth._

_“No other way to remove the devil from you than to drain it out. Or beat it out.” Her father hisses, throwing the dagger at her bare, bloody feet. Without a glance back, Harold turns and walks out of the cell and away from the all the damage he had caused, the pain he had inflicted._

_But Sonja lingers._

_Her mother looks as if she may collapse. “My Inge.” She whispers into the still. Ingrid freezes. She looks up to her mother whose gaze in on the mangled body she kneels beside. Looking straight through her. Her tearful eyes rove over all the injuries that have been inflicted._

_But Ingrid still looks to her._

_And as if Sonja can hear her she asks brokenly,_

_“Why did you let this happen to me?”_

* * *

It wasn’t weird that a stranger was this deep in the woods. You could always find a lost traveller who took a wrong turn, or if the full moon was out, weird groups of hooded people conducting animal sacrifices amongst other things. But never had Emma seen someone so distraught and scared. And beautiful. The horse let’s out a whinny of warning. She displays her palms. “I don’t mean any harm. I just…heard crying and came to see if everything was okay.” She breathes. The woman – around her age – nods while straightening out her gown.

Emma lifts an eyebrow. “The tear tracks say otherwise.” The stranger’s wary eyes fall on her own once more. She doesn’t move to say anything. _Fine. Guess I’ll do the talking._ “I’m Emma. I don’t live too far from here. It’s a manor on the edge on the field. Just my sister Lily and mother, Maleficent live-”

“Maleficent?” Her hoarse voice asks. “The sorceress?” Emma rolls her eyes with a scoff.

“Why does everyone think she – do you know what? For the sake of easiness. Yes, _that_ Maleficent.” A hint of a smile shows on the girl’s lips. _Success._ But her joy is short lived. She notices redness of the girl’s tanned cheek, and that wicked bruise with a cut right in the middle. “That cut looks quite bad. Does it hurt?” The other visibly freezes.

“I – a little. But I’m sure my mother will be able to help me.” The brunette reassures. _Liar –_ Emma thinks to herself. She opens her rucksack and pulls out her jar of salve. She holds it out in offering.

“I know you think Mama is a sorceress,” the blonde jokes, “But she makes a pretty good healing salve. Put this on morning and evening. Your cheek will be as good as new.”

“It’s not poisoned is it?” the brunette teases, a hint of a smirk on her face. Emma chuckles.

“I hope not. Otherwise she’s been poisoning her own child.” The girl with the beautiful brown eyes hesitates. Emma nods towards her, shaking the tub. “I insist. Consider this a gift to make you feel better.” She laughs bitterly.

“Nothing could make me feel better. Not until I get the hell out of the-” She stops, glancing towards her, clamping her mouth down. She walks towards her with a short sigh. She grabs the jar, her fingertips grazing over Emma’s knuckles. Every inch of skin she touched seems to tingle. “Thank you.” She whispers. Emma nods with a lazy grin.

“Anytime, stranger.” The beautiful woman gives her a small, shy smile.

“Please just…just call me Gina.”

* * *

Dusk falls upon the kingdom. Dinner would have already been cleared. Leopold and Snow would be in the King’s Parlour unless he had an important meeting with his council. But as she rides into the stables, Regina knows she will not be joining them. Not tomorrow night either; or the night after that. She won’t be joining them for as long as she possibly can.

She dismounts Roshi, handing him off to the only stable boy she trusts; one of the few people she trusts at all these days. _Perhaps you have another now._ She blinks, an image of the blonde flashing before her mind’s eye. Giving her horse a final pat, she turns and begins to walk through the gardens, wrapping her cloak tighter around her. October was always the month to be wary of. One day it seems that summer still lingers, the next either autumn or even winter decides to make a brief appearance.

Tonight it was winter.

And Regina welcomes it. The cold stinging her face seems to soothe that fiery rage swirling throughout her body. She needs to reign it in. Chain it. She can’t walk into that castle still reeling from the earlier events. Someone in the royal family will be gravely injured. And it will not be her.

Sagging with relief, she finally stands before the apple tree situated in the North facing garden. Her apple tree. Standing tall, the last of the blood red apples sparkling under the stars. Her happy place. A reminder of home.

Regina straightens, eyes narrowing.

A presence. She feels it as it rakes up her back like someone dragging a nail on her skin.

“I must say,” An intriguing voice muses, “That is quite an apple tree. How much for an apple kind woman?”

“They are not for sale.” She answers stiffly. She doesn’t dare to turn around, even if that high pitched giggle tugs at her curiosity. “Who are you?” The guest makes a noise of consideration.

“A family friend. I knew your mother, Cora, when we were…younger.”

“What is your name? Perhaps I’ve heard of you.”

“Oh I don’t think Cora would be stupid enough to utter my name so freely. Especially around someone as desperate as you _deary._ ”

“What do you mean de-” All words leave her. Any thought she had of demanding an answer from this person this _beast_ had vanished. Her eyes take in the figure standing in front of her. His limp and greasy hair, round eyes that are stormy grey. And his skin…

“Do…Do you have something wrong with your skin? I can get the Royal Physician to have a look at you. You would not have to-”

“Well this is peculiar,” he interrupts, giving her an incredulous look, “You are nothing like your Mother.”

“Why would I want to be anything like that woman?” Regina asks with a raised eyebrow. “She’s nothing but a greedy little witch who has done nothing but make my life a living hell.” The…man, she supposes, answers with a slow nod as he strokes his chin. The brunette shifts uncomfortably under his intense stare, his eyes travelling all over her body. She clears her throat.

“I would appreciate it if you’d stop gawking at me.”

“I do apologise. I only stare because I can feel…do you have magic?”

“Magic!” Regina exclaims as she pulls back in surprise. “I most certainly do not! I want nothing to do with it!”

“Odd. Very odd indeed.”

“Who are you?” Regina asks with exasperation, “What do you want from me?” He feigns hurt, placing his hand on his chest.

“I just wanted to help out the daughter of an old _acquaintance_ of mine is all.” He takes careful, slow steps towards her. “Who do you want dead?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well you obviously need help to get out of this predicament. So who needs to be poisoned, whose heart needs crushing-”

“No one! I don’t want to hurt anybody.” He looks bewildered.

“Forgive me but I am still sceptical that you and Cora are related. You’re just so,” he waves his hands around her, thinking of the word. “You’re just so nice.” Regina surges forward.

“Is there any way you could help me get out of this? Get out and away from this _without_ ending anyone’s life? I just…I just want to be free.” She begs, eyes beginning to sting. He lets out a shrill giggle as he wags his finger.

“Not just yet deary.” He says, causing Regina to glower at him.

“Why?”

“Because I want someone who will go to all _lengths_ in order to get what they want. Even if it means taking a life.” Regina shakes her head, chest tight.

“You’re evil.” He shrugs his shoulders with indifference as he steps farther away from her.

“Well I would hope I am deary, otherwise the ‘Dark One’ would be a weird title for me to hold.” He says with a wriggle of his eyebrows.

Regina watches in fear as the Dark One is enveloped in twinkling maroon smoke,

And then nowhere to be seen.

* * *

_Dark, empty, and cold. The silence is somehow loud and pounding in her ears. She can’t hear her cries or feel her tears stain her cheeks. She can’t feel herself. She is simply existing, floating in a never-ending void of black._

_But Ingrid isn’t afraid. Not of the dark, not of this existence. She is afraid of what she might see next, what she might be forced to watch, forced to hear. She’s afraid of what this urn is doing to her. But she will worry about that tomorrow, or whenever the urn decides to punish her next. Time doesn’t exist here. No days or hours or minutes. Just existence._

_So she will continue to weep. For herself, for Helga,_

_And for her brave little lion._


End file.
